Awakening
by MaskedOwl
Summary: 17 years after the end of Inheritance. Eragon has established a new home for the Dragon Riders in the East. Ismira, eldest daughter of Roran, is training with him. Arya is torn between her roles as Queen and Rider. Nasuada is facing multiple problems of her own. And a new threat is looming, one that could destroy all they have fought for.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **This is my first fanfiction on this website. Hope you guys like it!**

 **Please review ;)**

 **32 years ago**

The night was dark and heavy with the promise of rain. The moon was hiding behind the clouds coming from the east, which made it difficult for him to see the path ahead, even with his sharp eyes. The little girl on his back was still crying and the back of his shirt was damp with her tears as well as sweat. She had stopped shouting and trying to break free at least and the spells he had used to silence her and secure her on his back were not draining too much energy anymore. He could still feel her hands around his neck trembling though.

 _This will leave a deep scar for her,_ he thought. _Still, better than to stay here. I may have failed to secure the others, but I will not fail my duty towards these two._

The baby girl he had in his arms was silent and serene. She was no more than 3 months of age, but she had not yet cried for her mother's arms. _They were cold the last time they held her. Perhaps, she will not miss her too much, being so young. She will not even remember her mother. She might grow up knowing a different one. The others will make sure to find her a caring guardian._ Even one such as her, he knew they would not let her suffer. _They will protect her from the demons that roam this land. She will be safe, she might even find happiness and love. They both might._

He sighed and concentrated on his path once more. It was no more than a deer track and treacherous in the dark. He was careful to keep the Leona Lake always on sight and to not let the track lead him in to the mountains of the Spine. _Who knows was awaits in there. The best thing he would find was a band of Urgals,_ he knew.

For the hundredth time he strained his ears for any sign of pursuit, but he could not find any. He was certain they were following him. He was sure his diversion had not worked as well as he would like. He tried to go faster but the two girls and the spells his was using were hindering him. He had to keep his strength for what lay ahead.

 _Not much further now. Soon, I will be able to see them. I hope..._

Once, he would have no doubts that he could see them even in pitch darkness. But things were not so easy now. _My choice,_ he reminded himself. _I am proud to serve and I will not fail_ _. It was of no use to get lost in what once was_ _._ _His strength was not as great anymore, but he was still capable._

He continued in silence, trying to calm his mind. His plans were not totally thwarted. There was still hope.

Suddenly, the track took a turn to the right, towards the mountains. He stopped and looked carefully towards the lake. There were many such turns, he had passed a few of them already, but only one was the right one.

 _If only the moon would shine, even for a moment!_ But this night was full of bad luck. He would have to make do without it. He stood there for a while, trying to see any lights on the surface of the water. There were a few ripples on the surface of the lake from the wind, coming from the mountains and gaining strength. He could already feel a few droplets of water on his face as he crouched, straining to see. Owls hooted from the trees and a few frogs were croaking, their red eyes watching him.

 _There!_ A silver light just under the surface of the lake, moving with the ripples of the water. And two others behind. _He had found it at last! They were a bit deeper than he would have liked, a few hours more and they would have disappeared. He could reach them easily enough, but the little girl would have to swim and he would have to be careful with the baby._

 _He started to make his way down the steep incline towards the lake._

Suddenly, he felt the air begin to change and the ring on his left hand go colder all of a sudden. They are near! Quickly, he crouched and tried to hide among the reeds on the banks of the lake without disturbing them and making much noise. He sensed the girl on his back go rigid and hold her breath. Could she sense them too? He looked around carefully, but did not see anything. Yet, he was sure they had found him. He had to be quick, but it would be almost impossible to not be seen. The flowers were too deep and floating away, but he could not wait any longer. He may never have the chance again.

Carefully, he lifted the girl from his back and with a muttered word, he undid the spells that held her. He gently brought her in front of him and told her "Quiet now, little one. We must be very careful, but safety is near." She was standing still with fear, although he did not know if it was for him or for what was after them. She looked at him with wide eyes, red from crying. He shifted on his feet to hold the baby more securely and she looked at the baby in confusion. How much does she understand, he wondered, and how much will she remember?

"Where is..." she started to whisper but he put a hand on her mouth to stop her.

"We must be very quiet. There are bad men after us and we must not let ourselves be found. Do not worry, I did not hurt him. He is in a safe place, as you will soon be" He tried to smile, but the cold had gotten sharper and he almost winced instead. He could see that the tears on her face were starting to turn to ice. The baby was warmly swaddled, but the girl wore nothing but a thin nightgown. The night had been warm and humid during their journey and he had not thought to give her something else to wear, but it would not do to let her freeze now when they were so close. She did not seem affected though. Her slender figure was not trembling with the cold, as another child would be. She was looking at him, with a mixture of emotions on her face. Fear, pain and loss, but also something like curiosity.

 _Well, we have no time for questions. We need to hurry._

He turned to look at the lights, they were still there, thank the golden beard of Idhur!

"Can you see those lights in the water?" he breathed into the little girl's ear. She nodded, looking at them with thought he could even see their reflection in her big, beautiful eyes. He had tried not to look at her eyes for too long, but he took one last look. There were others that would tell her of their meaning _._ _If she makes it, that's it!_

He quickly removed the thought from his mind. It was time to move.

He put his hand on the girl's back and gently pushed her towards the lake. Already, ice was starting to form on the edge of the water.

"Can you swim?" he asked her.

"Yes, Father taught us" she replied quietly. "Where are we going? I cannot leave on my own! We have to go back! Why did we leave him? I…"

"Shhh" he tried to calm her." I told you. You are in danger. And you put others in danger too by staying. This is the safest option for all. Besides, this will not be forever, you will see your family again soon." The lie tasted foul on his mouth, but it was necessary and his words seemed to silence her. "Come on".

Pushing her by his side, he got in the lake. A hiss escaped his lips. The water was freezing. He glanced at the girl. Her face had hardened, but she had not stopped, even though her lips were pale. So, she was not unaffected by the cold after all. He took her cold hand and holding the baby as securely as he could, went deeper in the waters, still in the cover of the reeds.

A few more steps took them to the edge of their cover. The water reached his knees and was mid chest for the girl. She had started to shiver. Now they had to swim. The lights were further away than he thought. _Why would they move so quickly?_ And then he realised. Those who hunted them had come nearer and so the lights were shying away _._

 _No! I must not fail!_

He turned to the girl. "When I tell you to, swim as fast as you can towards the lights and grab one. No matter what happens, do not let go"

"No" she whimpered. "No, no, no, please I can't. I have to go back. Where are you taking us? I have to go back. Please!" Panic had begun to show in her eyes. They had started to shine with a strange flickering light.

"Shhhh, I told you. We… _"_

Movement sounded behind them, among the trees. He realized that all the animals had gone silent and not even the splashing of the water could be heard. His legs were starting to hurt from the cold.

He lowered the baby on the lake. The cloth he had used to swaddle her had many spells that would keep her warm and afloat for a while. He started to push her gently forward, when he heard the beat of leathery wings above them. Fear griped him. Was it the Razac with their mounds? Or something worse?

"Now", he told the girl. "Swim now, as I told you. Towards the lights. Grab one and no matter what happens, do not let go" He pushed her and she fell in the water. For a moment she was stunned, moving her hands aimlessly and he feared her previous claims that she could swim where not true. But, she quickly recovered and started swimming slowly forward. He pushed the baby in front of him, got in the water himself and, taking the girl by her waist, started moving towards the lights.

Shouts pierced the night as they moved to the open. Behind as well as above. How many were they? They were going too slow. The girl was a small thing and could not move with ease and he could not make any foolish movements or the baby would drown.

And the water was so cold. He felt the girl breathing with difficulty beside him and the baby's cheeks had started to lose their color. His spells could not hold against their stronger magic.

They were halfway there he felt a flaring pain on his right shoulder. An arrow had pierced him from the back and he could see its black oily tip protruding on the front. He grunted and felt hot blood coating his back. The girl turned and looked at him with panic.

"Do not stop" he told her.

He gritted his teeth and continued. He tried to shield the two girls with his body and kept them in front. The lights were almost close enough to touch now. A few more arrows pierced the lake in front of him and behind. One got him on his left calf. More blood oozed in the water.

Breathing with difficulty through the pain, he gave on last push and extended his arm trying to touch one of the lights. They seemed to slip away from his fingers. Again and again he tried but they slipped away and even started to submerge.

"No, wait" he called

He swam deeper in the lake, keeping the girls close. He could hear shouts behind him and the splashing of water. To the distance he suddenly heard thunder. His breath caught in his chest _._ _It cannot be._

 _The little girl extended her arm to touch the lights as he had told her. They were further away than her arm could reach, and still they seemed to wait for her! They stopped and floated closer to the surface and closed around her arm._

He blinked. Now was not the time to wonder at its meaning. He realized one thing though. The lights would not permit his touch, which meant he could not pass. He did not let himself lose hope though. His work here was not done anyway. His family needed him. Soon, he would have to head north.

He placed the baby near the girl and told her "Grab a light and place it on your sister. Quickly now!"

The girl looked shocked, but managed to grab another light. She lifted it out of the water and placed it on the baby. As it left the water its light dimmed and it revealed itself to be a silver flower with six petals. A vine trailed behind it connecting to the other lights The baby did not wake. Her lips were blue. Hold on little one!

"I… I… think she… is not …breathing" said the girl with a shudder. Her face was pale in the light.

"Hold her close" he told her. "Do not let go of her or the lights"

It had started to rain and the thunder was coming closer, but no lightning was visible. For now, the sky above was clear. Maybe it had been the Razac after all. He knew that they hated open waters and would not easily fly over them. He dared one look behind. There were dark forms in the water. And weapons glistened in their hands.

He wasted no time. He turned his back on them and tried to ignore his pain. Holding the girls near he began chanting. He was careful not to misspeak, while doing as fast as he could. The lights seemed to respond and shine a bit brighter. Relief filled him, his plan was working so far. Maybe, his father had been right all those years ago to call him a hot headed fool, but in this he would not fail.

His chanting became clearer and faster and the lights were now illuminating a circle around them. He heard the creatures behind his back cry in pain. They were very close now.

The little girl jerked and started breathing fast. "What is this?" she cried. "Oh, no! I can't! No! I'm sorry!" She was crying and trembling. Her eyes were filled with so much panic, that he feared she would let go. But the magic had her in its grip now and she could not get away. The baby was still and lifeless. Her face grey and eyes partially open and glassy.

 _She will be alright,_ he hoped _._ _It is just the cold._

He was nearing the end of his spell, when a blade caught him between his shoulder blades. For a moment his chanting stopped and blood filled his mouth. The magic wavered, the lights flickered and the girl got one arm free. She tried to touch him, looking at something behind him in horror. A wordless scream escaped her.

 _No. I will finish this. For my love. My beloved lost partner of mind and soul. I will do this._

Wheezing, his sight flickering, he whispered the last word of his spell. With great effort, he pushed himself away from the two girls, no longer touching them. As the last word left his lips, a great wind blew and the lights exploded. He was thrown backwards violently, the blade dislocating from his back and the arrow from his leg. He heard screaming, but did not know where it came from. His head was thrown under the surface and water filled his mouth and nostrils. He blacked out.

When he woke up, he was still in the lake, but his back was touching the roots of a tree. He opened his eyes and could still see a faint light. Had the flowers returned for him? He blinked and realized the glow was coming from the east. Dawn, he thought. He tried to turn and realized he still had an arrow in his shoulder. He felt numb and could not move his arm. But his back did not hurt. Nor did his leg. The magic he released must have partially healed him.

With a grunt, he turned and started swimming for the shore. He would have to heal his shoulder before he went far. He would also have to rest and find provisions.

His thoughts went to the two girls. _I hope I sent them the right way. They would have found and sheltered them already,_ he knew _._ _Their arrival will not go unnoticed._ He remembered their faces the last time he saw them. The little girl's was wild and panicked. _She would not be easily calmed, but in time she will get used to them._ _And the baby…_ He felt a great pain at the thought of her grey face and glassy eyes. Eyes so much like her mother's. Her eyes had been glassy last time he saw them too. He took a shuddering breath. He would not let himself mourn. The place he sent the two girls had great healers. _The would have found and healed her already._ _It was not too late…_

With another grunt he started to lift himself up. He would have to find shelter, before starting his travel. At least there was no sight of his pursuers. _I hope they got blasted to bits. I hope they rot in these cursed waters._

Finally reaching the shore, he looked behind him one last time. The lake was peaceful. He sighed. _I must go south to the mountains. Only when I finish my business there, will I be able to head North._

With another sigh, he started moving and left the lake behind him.

 **A/N: I did not reveal who the main character is in this chapter. I plan to reveal it quite later in the story but let me know if you think it would be more interesting to know who it is earlier. ;)**


	2. Chapter 1- Ismira

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review ;)**

Chapter 1

"When can we expect your next visit? You know how much your mother misses you"

Ismira gave a sigh. "When the time is right, I will come Father."

Roran frowned. "You say that every time we speak." _Because you ask the same question every damn time,_ she thought angrily." And yet it's been five years since your last visit. Do you not wish to meet your little brother?"

She suppressed a frown of her own. She had to stay calm and reason with her father. Master Eragon always reminded her to keep her temper in check.

"My studies go well, Father. But, there is much to learn yet." A practiced answer. "I should…"

"Yes, yes, your studies. Always about your studies, but what about your family? Eh?" her Father had started to turn angry as was often the case lately in every conversation they had. "Eragon always says you are one of his best students. I think what you really need is some real world experience. Come back to Alagaesia and do what a Dragon rider is meant to do. Arya can continue your studies. As I remember, you liked her as a teacher. Said so yourself. Why don't you…"

"It is not my place to question my teachers" she said with her fists clenched. She knew very well what her father was doing. Trying to guilt her into visiting Alagaesia and then once there, he would make her stay with them. It had almost worked five years ago. She wished he did not repeat himself every week.

He was standing just like she was. The mirror portrayed her father's study with its real dimensions. If they were to stand side by side they would have the same height. She was muscular and strong from years of practice, but so was he. He always talked of leading a peaceful life, yet he still exercised with his hammer and kept himself and his men fit for battle. She thought she could his hammer's shadow on the floor, from where he had it placed on a table, just out of sight. Not far though. Never did he leave his hammer far from where he was. Not even in sleep.

Roran gave her a mocking smile through the mirror. "That proves my point! The perfect student. I will tell Eragon to send you back soon"

Ismira felt her face starting to turn red. He always liked it when he made her angry. Her father thought the control she tried to exercise over her emotions was not fit for her. _Stone faced and stone hearted,_ he once told her. _Like an elf! Have you forgotten your race as well as your family?_ She always tried her best when she was around him. Everyone else told her she had a short temper and little control. _And they were right, most of the time._ It had started as a way to shelter herself from her family's pleas and moaning. To them, it was easier to lie through glass, when great distance separated them. But it had turned into a game. A way to prove to herself at least, that she belonged here and being a Dragon rider meant everything to her. So she tried to remain calm.

"I am sure Master Eragon will…"

"…make the right judgment?" said a voice behind her.

She suppressed a sigh of relief. This too was part of their ritual.

Master Eragon came to stand by her side. He wore a simple blue shirt with a silver belt and matching blue pants. His feet were bare. _Maybe he was meditating,_ she thought. _I did so too. I always try to calm myself before talking with Roran. Master must feel the same way._

Eragon gave Roran a smile.

Her father did not return it. Instead he muttered under his breath. "The right judgement…"

Eragon pretended not to hear.

"I am glad to see you Roran. It's been almost a week!"

"Yes," her father answered his cousin "almost exactly one week. As it always is. As you decided"

Eragon ignored that comment too. "Yes, well. I guess it's time you tell me of the news from Alagaesia and I listen to them. As is your duty and mine" He turned to Ismira. "You may go now Ismira. Itha will be waiting for you in the gardens."

"Yes, Ebrithil." She bowed her head. "Father" she gave a nod towards him as well.

Her father grunted a response to her. He did not like to hear of her dragon's name, but he no longer made any comments about her. Mostly he ignored it. She quickly turned and left the room, closing the door behind her, so that she would not hear whatever else Roran had to say.

She hurried down the corridor, seeking the clean air of the mountains.

 _How did it go?_ Itha asked. Her dragon was indeed outside in one of the gardens, enjoying the cool morning air on her scales.

 _Same as always. And it will be the same next week and the week after that,_ she replied.

It was the deal her Father had struck with Master Eragon when she was brought to the Dragonmount to start her training. They would talk through the magic mirror once a week. At first it had felt like forever between their meetings. Lately, she wished a year was what they had decided upon. Yet, she had given her promise. In the Ancient Language no less. She had not yet found the courage to ask Master Eragon to relieve her of that promise. No matter what she told herself, deep down she loved her family and feared her Father's wrath at the same time.

 _I think he was a bit more civil this time,_ said Itha. Ismira had closed their connection during the meeting with Roran. She wanted all her attention on being calm. Sometimes Itha helped, but she had decided to try on her own this time. Saphira always said that a bonded pair should learn how to function alone as well as together. Now that the meeting was over, she was sharing her memories with Itha though. _Keep no secrets between you._ That was another of Saphira's favorite sayings.

 _Most likely he did not want Mother to hear him shouting or to see him angry. Now that she is pregnant again, I guess he will be more careful due to last time._

 _Do not worry,_ Itha tried to comfort her. _Your mother is surrounded by healers. She will be well. It is unlikely anything will go bad this time. She has four children already. What happened last time is not unusual for females, Mistress Keya told me._

 _Yes, I know. She told me the same thing. She also said it happens more often with age. And mother is not young anymore…_

 _She will be fine Ismira,_ Itha insisted.

 _Yes, of course. She will be fine._ Ismira tried not to think too much about her aging family. How some day they will die of old age, while she would still be ageless. Or how dangerous it was for her mother to be pregnant again. After what happened last time, when she had almost died and the child was born dead. Her father's paranoia and his insistence on an extra healer to be sent from Elesmera had paid off. Her mother had been lucky that Arya had agreed to send an elven healer due to the three miscarriages her mother had had before that pregnancy. This time the elven healer had arrived as soon as news came that Katrina was with child.

Reaching the end of the corridor, she opened the heavy doors with a touch. The scrying mirror she used to talk with her father was in an isolated part of the keep, in Master Eragon's chambers. They had it with other scrying mirrors at first, but soon Eragon moved it to a more isolated location, so that others would not be disturbed by their weekly shouting matches.

She felt the enchanted doors close behind her and took a turn left. No one could enter without permission, as she herself had found out once, when she had attemped to sneak in to talk with her family. The chambers of Master Eragon held many secret treasures and were very well guarded.

This part of the keep was airier with many windows and openings. Passing one such window she saw Itha looking at her from the spot she was sitting in the garden. It was a small garden on the side of the mountain, but it was covered with many trees, so that the fall and the plains beyond where not visible. That meant it was a natural formation and not crafted by the magicians. Otherwise a space would be open for the dragons to fly directly off the mountain and not have to lift above the trees first.

Itha's coppery red scales reflected the mid-morning sun and the light wind blowing this high in the mountains made the leaves in the trees fall. Many had started to turn yellow and red, making Itha blend well among them. Many more leaves actually than she remembered seeing this morning coming to her meeting.

 _Itha,_ she asked amused, _did you turn the leaves red to compliment the color of your scales?_

Itha looked at her trying to appear innocent and failing. _Autumn is coming, Ismira, it's what leaves do._ She made her voice deeper in her mind, trying to sound wise. _It is the natural way of things. Life, death, rebirth. Such is the nature of the world._

That made Ismira laugh. She suspected that her dragon was trying to make her feel better. And it worked, as always. _Maybe you should turn them back to their natural color. Mistress Yara says we should not try to meddle too much with nature. If the leaves fall too soon, that might affect the trees' growth next year. You know how serious elves are about these things. Do you want another lecture?_

Itha almost shuddered. They had both endured many lectures on this matter over the years. Itha, like all dragons, could use magic in moments of inspiration to change the world as she wished. The problem was, Itha often had plenty of inspiration and she also possessed control over her magic way beyond what most dragons normally did. Not enough though. She had caused enough accidents over the years to make their teachers and most of the residents of Dragonmount wary. She now avoided using magic, except during their lessons. Usually.

 _Will you help me Ismira? Turn them back green_? She sounded anxious almost.

 _Of course,_ she replied and felt a wave of gratitude through the bond. _Why don't you try first on your own, while I go grab something to eat?_

She sensed Itha's mild annoyance. Usually Ismira was able to help undo Itha's magic by examining her memories, but their teachers always advised that Itha try on her own first, to help build her skills.

 _I won't be long. I'll come and help you. And once we fix the leaves, we can go flying together._

That lifted Itha's spirits. _Yes, I'll try to fix them quickly and you can eat on my back. This morning is fine for flying._

With another laugh, Ismira walked quickly down the corridor towards the kitchens. She was also excited to be on the skies. She was in need of a bit of fresh air.


	3. Chapter 2- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review ;)**

Chapter 2

 _Iorunn grows more beautiful as the years go past. Won't you say, Saphira?_

 _The years? Or the more husbands she changes?_

Eragon shared Shapira's amusement, but did not show it on his face.

"You have my sympathies, Iorunn, for your struggles. I hope these are the last", he said solemnly to the dwarf woman in the scrying mirror.

 _Must you say that every time?_ asked Saphira.

 _Look how she likes it Saphira! I enjoy playing along with her. And I will have to say it again soon. This one did not last six months. She will have a new husband soon and get rid of him even sooner. Why find something different to say each time? It is a waste of time._

Indeed, Iorunn seemed content with his response. She gave him a slight bow of the head and said with seemingly great sadness: "Thank you Shadeslayer. Your words are to me more refreshing than Sifi's own sigh at this grave moment."

 _Ha! She finds a different reference each time! Trying to confuse you no doubt,_ exclaimed Saphira.

 _In that she never changes,_ agreed Eragon.

 _Yes, now I see your point Eragon. This is more fun. Let her do all the work in trying to sound smart._

Suppressing another smile Eragon told Iorunn: "I will not hold you longer than needed then, if you have no more news and all else is indeed well"

"I have nothing else to report that is amiss, Shadeslayer"

He bowed his head to her in return.

"Very well then. Send King Orik and Queen Hvedra my congratulations on the birth of their son. I will speak with them soon. Farewell" and with Iorunn's reply he cut their connection.

He stepped away from the mirror and stretched.

 _It's always nice when good news come from Alagaesia,_ he remarked to Saphira. His eyes fell on the green mirror next to the one he had been using, but he averted his gaze quickly. _And always hard when no news come at all._

 _It is not yet time to contact Arya, Eragon. She too is Queen and have duties of her own. There is a reason we made this schedule._

He sighed but did not answer her.

 _Patience is important for all things Eragon. I thought you learned this lesson long ago._

 _And I though you kept your wise remarks for the students,_ he growled at her.

He turned and left the room. All of the most important scrying mirrors were housed here. For all leaders in Alagaesia and other important people with whom it was important he keep a private connection. He closed the door behind him without another look. If anyone wanted to speak with him, he would know instantly. He was wearing a silver bracelet and each link was connected with a different mirror. If a call came, the corresponding link would get cold. The bracelet was of his own design and he took great pride in it.

 _At least the meeting with Roran went well,_ Saphira said tentatively.

 _A small blessing. I caught them at the right moment, before they had yet started fighting. Ismira seemed relieved as well._

He entered their private rooms. The bedroom was modeled after the one they had in Ellesmera. It was open on one side with a view over the mountain range they had named Dragonmount. Shaphira lay curled in a depression in the floor and lifted her neck to face him instead of the view she had be staring at. He could see that some dragons where flying around. She had been watching them and he was sure she would remark on their techniques later during one of their lessons.

 _Roran is too harsh with the girl at times, Eragon. Maybe we should limit their meetings. She often gets distracted afterwards._

 _Katrina is pregnant again,_ he reminded her. _Ismira is right to worry about her mother's health. She will want frequent updates._

 _Yes, there is that. You did warn them though not to try for a baby again._

 _Yes, well, when did Roran listen to me Saphira? And don't get me started on Katrina. She is more stubborn still. If she wanted another child, Roran would not refuse her._

 _A foolish thing to do, to put herself in such grave danger._

 _Nothing we can do about it now, Saphira. An Elf healer is with her. She in the best hands possible._

Saphira snorted and smoke came out of her nostrils, but dropped the subject. _At last, Orik has the heir he so wanted._

 _Yes, that was great news,_ said Eragon. Orik and Hvedra had been trying for a child for many years. But dwarves, although more fertile than elves, still had greater difficulty than humans. Orik had explained to him that for a dwarf woman the first child was always the hardest. He claimed the others came much easier. _May they have many children more._

 _Yes,_ Saphira said and turned to look at their pupils once more.

 _Should we join them?_ He asked her.

 _Later, I want to watch them a while yet. They are improving, but there is still room for progress._

Smiling, he went to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of boots. _I will leave you to it then._ She barely acknowledged his comment and he left her to her watch.

He quickly made his way down to the lower levels. Picking the right way and avoiding the many traps was second nature to him now. He had kept a tower in the keep for his personal use. There were many secrets and treasures that was his duty to protect. Few others ever came here. He had an office though, in the student's residence.

It was Gleadr's idea mostly. He had told him that he would need to show a strong presence to his students, but he would also crave for a reprieve more often than not. And the old dragon had been right.

Exiting through his enchanted door, he chuckled to himself quietly. Experience was often a bitter guide. He wondered, not for the first time, how exasperated he had made his old teacher during his own training.

Just ahead of him, he heard another person giggling through a window. He slowed his steps and peered carefully outside. Ismira and Itha were there, the dragon's coppery scales perfectly complimenting her rider's hair. They both seemed to find something funny. Not wanting to intrude, he continued quickly down the corridor.

He had not gone far when he reached the main grounds. They had sailed for almost a month upon leaving Alagaesia when they reached these mountains. A small mountain range, about 50 miles across, rich in fauna and flora. The plains that surrounded them were full with game and empty of people. Upon first laying eyes on them, Eragon had known that they had found the home they were searching for both dragons and riders. When he and Saphira flew above the peaks, a relatively easy height for a full grown dragon of one thousand and three hundred miles high, they had found this natural plateau near the center of the mountain range. It was here they settled, forming buildings from the stone and trees and they named their new city Dragonmount.

Now the main grounds were full of life. Dragons, both wild and bonded were enjoying the early autumn sun. People of all races were walking around or standing and talking. Humans, Elves, Dwarves and Urgals had lived here in harmony for 17 years.

Despite his initial concerns, more than Riders resided here. A city needed many hands and much craftsmanship to operate and the magicians that had come with him were not enough. He was glad he had accepted them. Many had become Riders and more had brought their families or started new ones here. Everyone had sworn oaths in Ancient Language though. To keep the peace and many others besides. He did not regret asking this of them. It was a necessary precaution.

No one, who had not sworn an oath was allowed on Dragonmount. Those who wished to trade or visit otherwise were allowed no further than the foot of the mountains where the springs of the river lay. A city had formed there as well. Eaglegate they had called it. It was not as populous as Dragonmount, but still vital for trade and for connecting them with home.

He turned and continued toward a great building, its façade made from white marble. The Way of Joy and Struggles many had nicknamed it. The Hall of the Students was the one he preferred. It extended deep in the mountains. Through the years they had excavated deep and formed many halls and rooms for any need a student would have, no matter their race. Here too, access was monitored so that the students would not be disturbed.

Entering the building he met many of his students. Today was a free day for them and they had no lessons. There was always an air of excitement on these days and Eragon started to grin. He greeted all of them warmly. He had found that he greatly enjoyed teaching others, despite the difficulties, and he had grown fond of all his students.

Taking another turn, he reached a circular chamber with five other doors, despite the one he had entered. These were the offices for the Directors of Studies. One office was his and the other four were for the those responsible for Humans, Elves, Urgals and Dwarves Riders. Most doors were closed. No doubt they had taken advantage of their free day too. But the door of Tugdo, the Urgal Director was open, as he knew it would be.

"Good Morning, Eragon" she greeted him.

"Good Morning Tugdo" he replied warmly. Tugdo was the first Urgal Rider they ever had. She had been a star pupil. Her help had been invaluable from the start. She had helped rebuild the Riders and was among his most trusted advisors. She was also mostly responsible for the training of the Urgal Riders. Eragon knew that he would never have been able to help them or connect with them as much without Tugdo's help. "What news?" he asked her sitting himself on the opposite side of her desk.

"The best news, Eragon. The new eggs have safely reached the Guardians. They plan to have the ceremony in five days, once all have assembled in Ellesmera." She said with a wide smile.

He smiled back at her and not only because of the news. He could never resist her warmth. She was not a Kull, being almost 6 feet tall, and had shining horns that curved backwards, smaller than was customary for her race. With her sweet, serene face – a surprising result of her bond with her Dragon- many did not find her too intimidating. That served her well, and helped in her duties as Director, but he had seen her throw a Kull Rider on the ground and almost taking his horns of his head. So he knew, she was not to be underestimated.

This past decade, since she had become a full Dragon Rider and he was no longer her teacher, they had grown very close. He wondered if he should invite her to spend the rest of the day together, as they often had. The other students would not notice. And the other Riders did not mind their intimacy. All that came here were quickly accustomed to the fact that anyone was free to take a partner for as long as they liked. An hour, a year or for life. Everyone was free to do as they liked. If they wished to, they could even marry. So far though, no Rider had chosen to do so. Not even the humans or the dwarves.

But they had work to do. Tugdo was always faithful in her duties and did not like many distractions when she had so much to do. She always took great pride in being responsible for the exchange ceremony, as was her duty this year.

"Well, we should make plans of our own then. And prepare for our feast and celebration here on Dragonmount" he told her.

She favored him with a secretive smile, as if she knew what he had been thinking. "I have already started. In five days we will be ready. Do you want me to announce the good news to the city?"

"Yes, have them prepare as well. You know how everyone likes to dress in their finest. We should give them plenty of time to do so. I fear the Dwarves will be pressed for time though. They need a few days to braid their beards correctly" he said laughing.

"And many Urgalagra believe they should shine their horns five times for three days straight." She gave a laugh as well. "The Guardians arrived a bit earlier than we had anticipated and I think all the other eggs have already hatched" she said in a more somber tone.

"All four again this year? Are you sure?"

"I believe so yes. They gave me no details. Has Rider Arya contacted you?" She was calm when saying Arya's name, careful to stay expressionless, but it did not escape him that she had chosen to call Arya Rider and not Queen.

He carefully replied to her: "Not yet. Soon I expect. As soon as she has all the details herself" _I hope it is soon._ Not wanting to get deeper in the matter he stood up. "I'll inform you, once I know myself"

"I'll get back to work then Eragon"

"Of course, Tugdo" he replied and left her office.


	4. Chapter 3- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review ;)**

Chapter 3

 _Saphira!_ He called with his mind. _Tugdo said that all four eggs have hatched again!_ He told her while heading deeper in the Student's Residence.

He felt her stir where she was sitting in his bedroom, still studying the younger dragons flying. _Amazing news Eragon! Did she tell you who...?_

 _No, no, she did not know any details. We'll have to wait until Arya tells us._

Saphira's thoughts where full of excitement. Each year they send four eggs back to Alagaesia, one for each race. And each year, for seventeen years without fail, they had all hatched and the numbers of the Dragon Riders had swelled.

The bonded eggs they had found on Vroengrand had all hatched already. The twenty-six eggs that were meant to bond with Riders had hatched quickly. Those with wild dragons had begun to hatch quickly as well. Within the first five years they had twenty bonded pairs and thirty-five wild dragons. Their hands had been more than full, before their students were mature enough that they in turn had started helping with the raising of the new dragons. Both he and Saphira, had been excited for their new duties and took great pride in the new Dragons and Riders they were helping to shape.

Five years after they had left Alagaesia, though, two wild dragons had hatched deformed and ailing. Despite their best efforts, they had not been able to save them and they had both died within a month. This had greatly shaken them. They knew that it was not healthy for the dragons to remain in their eggs for long, but the state of those two hatchlings had surprised even the Eldunari.

After much thought, they decided to change the enchantments on the eggs and have many of them bond with Riders. So far he had done this for three groups and forty-two eggs had hatched for the Riders. All these were healthy, with one exception.

Three years ago, an egg had hatched for an Elf called Vaalyun. The dragon had seemed healthy at first, but three months later he had died unexpectedly in his sleep. The elves that had examined him said his heart had exploded. It was obvious that the prolonged time the dragon had spent in his egg was to blame. The elves had said the causes of his death seemed natural despite the fact that dragons were not known to get so ill. Vaalyun had killed himself a few days later.

Besides this, another three dragons had suddenly died in their eggs without warning and before they had hatched. A further two eggs had also cracked, before the dragons were ready to hatch and they had not been able to revive the hatchlings inside. They had found no sign of attack. Their deaths seemed natural.

There had been other problems with the wild dragons too. Some were not totally healthy, physically or mentally. Ninety-four wild dragons they had, and twenty-two of those had problems. Seventy-eight wild dragon eggs had not yet hatched. The rate of their hatching had slowed down as well. In the last three years, only five new dragons had hatched, three with problems.

The dragons that were bonded with Riders seemed to be healthy. Some Eldunari also claimed that for many, both Dragons and Riders, their skills were greater even than before the Fall. But, Eragon did not want to make another pair suffer. So, he had decided to let the wild dragons hatch on their own and he had bonded no more of them.

Last year was the first they had send new eggs to Alagaesia. Those laid by the dragons hatched after the death of Galbatorix. This made this year even more interesting. Especially for Saphira, who had given her own egg. Her's and Firnen's, laid soon after they had arrived in Dragonmount. She had had no other eggs and she was worried about the time this one had to spent in its egg. All the Eldunari comforted her of course, reminding her that seventeen years when not a long time and that she had spent many more inside her own egg.

 _Oh, I wonder, which race do you think he chose?_ Saphira asked him anxiously. He did not have to ask who she meant.

 _I am sure he chose the person that was right for him,_ he replied.

 _Oh, I hope they are all healthy!_

 _I am sure they will be Saphira._

 _It will be a while before we see them, though…_ he sensed her worry at that.

 _He will be with Firnen, Saphira. As his father he will teach them well and protect him. You need not worry._

 _Mmm,_ was her only reply. He sensed her looking outside again and through her eyes he saw a visible excitement pass through those at the sky and those at the main grounds. _I guess Tugdo just told them the news._

 _And they will not calm down for the next week at least,_ he moaned. He hurried his steps wanting to reach the Oak Grove before a wave of Riders descended upon him asking questions.

All the rooms in Dragonmount were big enough to accommodate Dragons. Here in the Students Residence as well as at the Rider's Residence more so than elsewhere. For now, the halls were empty, but soon they would buzz with students starting to prepare for the celebration.

He turned and exited the corridor through an arch decorated with yellow marigolds. The soft sound of water welcomed him. He was in one of the openings they had created on the side of the mountains, about two miles away from the main grounds. The air was warmer here. Using magic, they made sure the Oak Grove was warm even in the middle of winter.

There, he found Yara with Toamroith and Eirsesdag. They were both young wild dragons. Both hatched two years ago.

He opened his mind and send a greeting to them.

Eirsesdag acknowledged him, but as always, Toamroith did not seem to notice him. He purposely stepped on a twig, to make noise. Toamroith turned at that and made an excited sound.

Ignoring Yara's cold stare he lightly touched her mind and asked her: _No change?_

 _No, Shadeslayer. I still cannot make a connection with his mind._

"We were discussing the fragility of nature, Eragon" she said out loud. Toamroith could understand most of what they told him. "I was just telling this young dragon that, in order to convey a message to one another, we need not destroy our surroundings. Other dragons should know this too" she finished looking sharply at Eirsesdag.

Looking around, Eragon could see signs of mild destruction. Fallen leaves and gouges in the ground. _What were they trying to do?_ He wondered. He saw now why Yara was mildly annoyed. It was nothing that could not easily be fixed, but the elf was deeply connected with nature. She disliked all harm done to it, as all the students had come to know. She liked giving them frequent lessons, so that they did not forget.

Eirsesdag and Toamroith were two of the dragons that had hatched with disabilities. Toamroith had an inability to connect his mind with others. No other had been able to connect with his mind either. This had happened after he hatched. While in his egg, they had been able to determine his general mood without problem. Eirsesdag, on the other hand, had deformed wings that prevented her from flying. They had not yet found a solution.

The two of them had formed a bond and were almost always together. The Oak Grove was their favorite place.

"Have you heard?" he asked her.

"Yes, Shadeslayer. The celebration is in five days. I will have my students ready." As Director of Studies for the Elven Riders, it was her duty to prepare them. "Everything else will be in order as well" she added meaningfully.

"Thank you Yara, I will speak with Blodhgarm as well"

"Have you heard of our new Brothers and Sisters, Eragon?" she asked him.

"I have no details yet" he answered her.

Suddenly, a link on his bracelet turned cold. _Arya! At last!_

He continued. "Queen Arya has just contacted me asking for a meeting. Soon, I will share with you all the details." He tried to contain his enthusiasm.

Yara's face went colder, but she made no comment other than a nod.

Eragon turned and almost running, went to his private chambers.


	5. Chapter 4- Arya

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review ;)**

Chapter 4

She could still see her reflection in the mirror. Impatiently she repeated the spell to call Eragon for a meeting.

 _He will answer Arya,_ Firnen said in her mind. _And stop fidgeting!_

She was indeed fidgeting. She willed herself to be still and dropped her hands to her side. She saw that she had wrinkled her tunic from clutching it too hard. A wonder she had not torn it apart.

 _That foolish woman!_ She told him. _She will drive me mad._

With a word she made the wrinkles on her cloth disappear.

Instantly she hated herself for doing it. _What matters if my clothes are wrinkled? I do not have to appear perfect for him._

She sensed Firnen's exasperation, but before he could make a comment, ripples crossed the mirror and Eragon appeared.

"Atra esterni ono thelduin, Arya Dröttning" Eragon spoke first, as always. Since this was a meeting about Rider business, she was the one who was supposed to speak first, as Eragon was higher in Rider hierarchy than her. But, he always liked to speak first, to honor her as Queen of the Elves.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda, Eragon" she replied.

"Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta on" he finished.

 _Formal today are we?_ She thought with annoyance.

 _Or perhaps he knows you well enough to sense your anger today,_ Firnen mused. _And is trying to appease you_

She felt her annoyance grow, but remained calm on the outside. She had had many years to practice her composure. This youth will not shake her.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Eragon added: "Firnen" and bowed his head to the dragon on her side. She felt Firnen's hot breath beside her as he blinked at Eragon. He had wanted to be here for this meeting. The mirror was in her study in her tree house. She had rooms in Tialdari Hall, as a Queen, but both her and Firnen preferred the tree house. The old Riders had been right to choose them as their residences. Here, Firnen did not have to worry about destroying the gardens at least.

Eragon gave both of them a wide smile. "I hope you are both well. Arya, I hope you were able to resolve the problems with the werecats"

"Everything is fine. Our bonds with the werecats are stronger than ever". She had used a mild argument between some of her people and a band of werecats over their hunting grounds, to avoid their meeting last month. She had sent one of her advisors instead to speak with him. She wished she could have done the same this time. She had delayed their meeting until their scheduled appointment came. She could have contacted him as soon as the Guardians had arrived in Ellesmera, but why not let him wait a while longer?

"This news fills me with much joy" his smiling growing even wider.

She gave him a cold stare. Was he mocking her? Talking about her duties as Queen instead of asking about the Riders. She could not read his face. He had lost his youthful appearance now. Instead his face had the ageless look of the Elves. She wanted to throw a dagger at his face in the mirror. Even better she wished she could slap him in the flesh.

Saphira suddenly appeared beside Eragon. She gave Arya a nod of her head and looked at Firnen. _Right, we are here to discuss important matters. Let's get on with it._

"The Guardians of the Eggs arrived in Ellesmera three days ago. Their cargo was safely delivered" she said the formal words that were required of her with a coolness her mother would envy.

"I was informed" he said. "Tugdo also said that all four of the Eggs in Alagaesia hatched this year. Have all the new Riders arrived as well?"

He said that Urgal's name with a familiarity that revealed much for the nature of their relationship. She had heard the gossip from the Riders coming to Alagaesia.

They had been rumors for others as well. She wondered if one of them was the reason he had taken so long to answer her. Today was a free day for the students and there would be no lessons. The scrying mirrors were held in his private chambers in Dragonmount. He had shown her once where they were. She had been to Dragonmount twice, but only once visited his rooms. Briefly. She could not help to wonder sometimes how many others and how often they visited him. _Some of the things he keeps there are too precious to fall in the wrong hands. Not to mention dangerous._

Firnen was keeping suspiciously quiet.

She tried to keep her disgust contained.

"As I have already told you, the Elven and Dwarf Riders have been here with us for almost seven months now. Three weeks ago the Eggs sent to the Humans and Urgals hatched as well."

"Marvelous" he said grinning. _Will he ever wipe that stupid grin off his face?_ "And what…?"

"I do not think they are ready to make the journey yet though" she interrupted him. "Taadlag I believe is" she said referring to the Urgal Rider bonded last year. "He has gained another foot in height. There is no doubt now that he is a Kull. But Bablu is strong enough to carry him all the way on his back, even if he grows more."

 _Arya stop rumbling!_ Firnen warned her.

"I will send them both to Dragonmount with the next group of Riders to make the journey. It is time they start their training with you" she continued

 _Arya, you talked about Taadlag last time! He knows already!_

"I'll be waiting for them" and before she could say another word, Eragon added: "Tell me of the new Riders, Arya! What are their names? And what about Saphira's Egg? Who did he choose?"

She almost sighed aloud. _Oh Eragon and your countless questions! In that you have not changed._ The thought made her nostalgic. Every time she spoke with him she felt a current of emotions. Most of all she felt divided. She craved to join him in Dragonmount. To join her Brothers and Sisters and live among the Dragons. Firnen and her, spending their time freely, without restraints, save the ones their duties to the Riders dictated. But, she had made her choice long ago. Her duty was here, among her people.

As Queen.

Rider and Queen.

More and more voiced their concerns about the conflict between her two titles. Some were not afraid to voice them where she could hear. The Elven Riders in particular had been louder the past years. They would refer to her only as Rider, never as Queen. They meant it as an insult she knew. To remind her of her true duties. As if she could ever forget.

The gedway ignasia on her palm and the yawe on the shoulder almost felt to be burning her.

 _My choice! And I am proud of it!_

Saphira had brought her snout closer to the mirror. She could see flames dancing in her nostrils and she was tense with anticipation.

Arya straightened her back, bracing herself.

In a ceremonious voice she announced: "This year we have had four new Dragon Rider pairs. One for each race. Firstly, Jushe, the female gray dragon, hatched for Ruma, a young female Urgal. Then, the green male dragon, Rildrod, hatched for the elf Sariandi. She is older than me, almost three times my age. They have bonded well and Rilrod grows healthy"

Eragon nodded. He already knew that.

"And then, the male gray, Heifu hatched for a male dwarf, Brousog"

"So Saphira's egg hatched for a Human?" Eragon said excitedly. Saphira appeared pleased.

"Yes" she replied. Quickly, she finished: "The pale blue male dragon, Tirrom, hatched for a young Human boy, Sipho"

Eragon and Saphira both froze.

"How old is the boy?" he asked her.

"Twelve"

Eragon lost his smile. It did not give her the satisfaction she thought it would.

"Nasuada's son?"

She nodded.

Eragon sighed. "Her only child and heir?"

"Yes"

He looked away from the mirror. Contemplating. Arya stood still as a statue. Saphira and Firnen were exchanging worrying glances.

Finally, Eragon said softly: "This will be difficult for her. I am surprised she actually let the boy near the egg. I have heard…"

"Nasuada came here as well"

Eragon jerked his head back to look at her. Worried. "And? How is she?"

"She… has been… very… difficult"

Eragon frowned. "We need to be understanding Arya. She will be worried, as any mother would be in her place. All the healers, including yourself and everyone I have sent, have concluded after examining her that she is unable to ever have another child. Give her time. I am sure she just wants to spend as much time as possible with her only son before letting him go. I will speak with her as well. I doubt she will cause you any trouble"

Arya did not answer. She kept her face cold. He was content in his little bubble and most times she did not have the energy to burst it. _Of course he thinks everything is perfect. He is still a child sometimes._ Times like these, she was glad he was on Dragonmount. She also wished to grab him by the neck and drag him back to Alagaesia and have him deal with the situation here.

Eragon was still thinking silently. She waited.

"The boy will never be able to be King now. The Humans will not accept a Rider as their Ruler. Not after Galbatorix" Eragon finally whispered.

She tensed. _Was that comment meant for her as well? Does he believe that she should abdicate her own throne? So far, he had never made judgement of her dual titles, seeming to accept her decisions._

She did not wish to find out today. "If you will excuse us, Eragon, Saphira. There are matters that require our immediate attention"

Eragon looked at her and gave her another smile "I hope nothing else is amiss, Arya, Firnen. We will speak again soon"

She did not answer nor return his smile, but abruptly cut their connection.

 _That was slightly rude Arya,_ Firnen said.

 _He deserved worse for being such a fool._ She turned away from the mirror and went to a table near the window overlooking one of the streams crossing Ellesmera. She crushed some herbs in her palm and dropped them in a cup to make tea.

 _I suppose you are right._ Firnen went and curled on his seat in front of her desk. He sighed, his thoughts on Saphira and her bright scales.

She took a sip from her tea and frowned. She put the cup back on the table and grabbed a flask with dwarven ale instead. She took a big gulp and felt her throat burn. "Much better" she sighed contently.

She sat on the chair behind the desk, taking the flask with her. She drank some more. The flask was almost empty. She would have to go and fill it from the barrels she held in her kitchen on the lower levels of the tree house. Taking another sip, she finished it and stood. The room slightly shifted and she grabbed the desk for support.

 _Do not drink so fast Arya,_ Firnen whispered.

She waited for her head to clear. Her sight fell on the fairths she had mounted on both sides of the door. Two on each side. On the right she had the fairth Eragon had made of her and one she had made of him, from memory. She quickly looked away. The ones on the left depicted two male elves. Her Father in one. And Faolin in the other.

Carefully she walked towards it. Many years had passed but the hole inside her had not mended. She gently touched his cheek. It was as cold as the stone the fairth was made of. _Not real. Long dead._

"What do you say, my love, for everything that's happening?" she whispered to him. Looking longingly at Faolin's green eyes.

Firnen snorted. _That you are an idiot!_


	6. Chapter 5- Nasuada

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review ;)**

Chapter 5

"Come here Sipho. Let me straighten your hair." Nasuada motioned for her son to come closer to her chair.

The boy was playing with his young dragon in the sitting room. He did not hear her. Instead he laughed harder, at Tirrom's failed attempts at flying. The dragon was pathetically moving his wings trying to lift off the ground.

"Sipho…" she said, almost out of breath. Feeling a tightness in her chest, she tried to take a deep breath. All that came out was a wet cough. _It's just the cold._ She extended her hands towards the fireplace. The tree house was supposed to be protected from the elements. Yet she felt like it was freezing The armchair she was sitting on was in the bedroom connected to the sitting room. She turned to look at her son. _Is he freezing too?_ The shirt he was wearing seemed too thin. Another cough. _Maybe I got a cold on the way here. I must be careful, so that Sipho does not catch it from me._

The tree house the Elves had given her for her stay in Ellesmera was level with the ground. It was located in a small grove of tree houses. Her guards and followers had been housed in tree houses set in a circle around hers. Sipho and she were well protected. _One can never be too secure though,_ she thought. She did not let him out of her sight. The Riders had tried to take him from her. They said they had allowed them to stay together for the journey, but now that he was ready to join their Order he would be housed elsewhere. With them. She had not let them. _They will never take him from me. The future of my Kingdom! He is mine._

She had gone to Arya this morning. She asked her to break the bond that was imprisoning her son. She knew the Elven Queen knew the Name of the Ancient Language. She had expected it would have been easy. The Dragon could live as a wild one. Sipho would return to her. She had not thought Arya would have been so openly opposed to the idea. She had rarely seen the Elf display any kind of emotions. Her enmity had greatly surprised her. Arya had almost kicked her out of her office.

 _I am not done yet. I will demand it of her again and again until she agrees._ The Elf did not understand. _She is not a mother. She cannot understand. If I cannot reason with her, I'll find another way to persuade her._

Like an answer to her thoughts, Elva entered the tree house. Lex, the captain of her guard, entered behind her.

Elva had her hair in a ponytail and her pointy ears her visible. They believed this was a result of the mark Saphira had given her on her brow, above her purple eyes. After Eragon had removed part of his magic on her, she had stopped growing in an unnatural pace. Now she looked like a woman in her 20s, her natural age. Besides a tendency to tire more easily, she had no other complications from Eragon's curse. She still retained her valuable skills, thankfully, and exercised them daily.

Elva gave a sweet smile to Sipho and moved towards Nasuada. Lex sat on a chair, his posture relaxed, but his hand on his sword and his eyes on the dragon.

"I did some research." Elva told her in answer to Nasuada's questioning look. "Give me a few more days and I will have something we can use. Arya is careful, but not as strong as she thinks"

"Elva, the ceremony will be in five days!"

"And they will not take him away, Nasuada. The young Riders always stay with Arya for a while. It will be the same with Sipho. We will stay here as well, until we free him". Elva's words had a slight calming effect on her.

"Do not worry, Majesty". Elva placed a hand on her face soothingly. She gave a slight frown. With urgency she added: "Are you feeling well? You feel cold as ice" she moved her hand towards Nasuada's throat and felt her fluttering pulse. Immediately she turned to look at Lex. He jumped out of his seat and left.

Elva turned back at her. "I told him to find Trianna"

Nasuada tried to answer. But all she got out was another wet cough.

"It's been six months since your last Healing. The stress and the journey must have affected you" Elva whispered rubbing Nasuada's cold hands. She placed a hand back at her throat, monitoring her pulse.

With a rush, Trianna entered, Lex behind her.

Sipho and the dragon resumed their game.

Trianna turned to close the door of the bedroom, but Nasuada stopped her. "Don't" she rasped. A deep breath. "I want to…" the room went dark.

Next instant, Trianna was standing over her, a hand on her bare breasts. When had they opened her dress? _Did Sipho see?_ Elva was over her head, a hand around her jaw. Had she been giving her breaths? She had done the same often, ever since Sipho's birth.

Nasuada glanced at the sitting room. Sipho was playing, Lex guarding over him. Her heart was still fluttering like a hummingbird.

Elva put her head closer to Trianna's and whispered. "It came too suddenly this time. She was fine two hours ago. I am sure of it Trianna. She was perfectly fine"

"The episodes have always been random. We are not too late this time. I will proceed with healing her Majesty" Trianna answered and started mumbling in the Ancient Language.

Nasuada felt a warm sensation start to spread from her chest to the rest of her body. _The filth of magic_ she thought every time. And yet every time she was glad for Trianna's magic. And hated herself for it. Trianna was the only one she allowed however. The magician was her personal Healer and was bound with many oaths in the Ancient Language to Nasuada's service. And Sipho's.

It was during his birth, twelve years ago she had the first episode. She had labored for three days, refusing the help of the magicians. She had wanted to bring her son in this world without the taint of magic in him. She had succeeded. But an hour after his birth, Nasuada's heart had stopped. The magicians had stepped in to revive her then. Elva had even shared her breaths with Nasuada while her own lungs were failing her. Nasuada liked to think that due to Elva's act of love, she was not so tainted herself. Healing was the one thing magic was good for. Even though the same skills could easily turn deadly. Magic was never pure, she knew.

The episodes had returned, but had no pattern. She could have two episodes in the same day or one episode in two years. Trianna was never far from her side.

She was starting to feel better. Her heart had resumed a normal rhythm. Only her breathing was still a bit difficult. Elva was still standing ready to breath for her.

She turned to watch her son again. Her thoughts returned to Arya. _Foolish Elf! She will do as I ask her eventually. She will not dare throw me out of Ellesmera. Arya will not disturb the peace like that._

She had not even considered talking to Eragon. It would be a waste of breath.

There was another who could potentially help her. But Murtagh had left her no means to contact him directly _. No use in thinking of him_.

Her heart skipped a beat. Trianna frowned and Elva caressed her cheek.

She could not help but compare her son with the red Rider lately. Murtagh had denied her advances and chosen Thorn over her. He had not even visited Ilirea for more than six years. Now she was in danger of been abandoned by her son too, in favor of a dragon.

 _No! Never! I will not let him go!_

She kept her eyes on her son while Trianna worked over her. He had not noticed his mother's state. Just as well, she did not want him worrying. _At least Thorn was big and strong. A fierce fighter._ The thought came to her unwillingly. _This oversized lizard is a weak, pathetic creature. Even his color is weak, this washed out pale blue. He is not fit to be bonded with a future King._ She gave the dragon a hateful, disgusted look. She wished she had something contagious after all, so she could pass it on to him and free her son.


	7. Chapter 6- Ismira

Chapter 6

Ismira threw her magic wide and deep in the ground and lifted more water to the surface. The hole she had dug in the sand overflowed and water streamed down to the pool. She lifted more at a steady rhythm. She could feel the underground river flowing deep below her. The pools were full two thirds of the way, but she liked to soak deep when bathing.

The gurgling sound of the water was hard to hear over the scrubbing sounds all around her. Three Urgals sat on the edge of the complex of pools, shining their horns.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Shine.

Scrub some more.

Their rhythmic movements made a strange kind of music that carried far in the plains.

She could hear more sounds in the distance as four dragons were rolling in the sand trying to shine their scales. They were raising clouds of sand in the air that blocked the sun. All she could see of them were dark figures. They were arrayed in a circle around the pools, giving each other plenty of space. The air within the pools was protected from the worst of the sand, and it felt like being inside a glass dome.

Grains of sand where still floating around though, from the Urgals. The tall Kull, Rhazin, had started throwing handfuls of sand on his back. _What is the purpose of that?_ She wondered. Her own skin was covered in a thin layer of sand that made her itch. She could not wait to wash it off.

 _The sand is hot and feels good Ismira,_ Itha told her.

 _Maybe, on your thick skin,_ she answered, before her dragon had a chance to propose that she joins in. _Still, you should be careful. Remember what Saphira always says. Do not overdo it, or you could harm yourself. Protect your eyes and mouth. Shining scales won't matter if your eyes get hurt._

 _Umph,_ was Itha's answer. From the corner of her eyes, Ismira saw her raise her wings and bury herself in a sand dune. She felt the vibration through her bare feet.That made Ismira laugh.

Zenma, the young Urgal sitting closer to her, gave them a glance.

"Is that helpful? I'll tell Kea to try it" Zenma said in the Urgal's language, without pausing her frantic scrubbing on her horns. They were long and curved low over her ears. She had heard more than one Urgals admiring them since Zenma had joined them on Dragonmount a few months ago.

Before, Ismira could answer her, she felt another, smaller vibration and Zenma flinched. Ismira laughed harder.

"Tell her not to hurt herself. He scales are perfectly fine."

"Brown scales do not shine as much as Itha's coppery ones" Zenma complained. She continued without a pause. "I attended the Hatching of the Eggs Celebrations four years ago in Stavarosk. And once more last year in Surda, when Kea and I were presented. I remember the dragons. How their scales would shine! Even Mistress Yara's brown one. Kea will be as splendid this year" she said with determination. She was sitting with a collection of tools around her. She took a cloth and started shining her left horn.

"She already is" Ismira said. "As all dragons are."

"You think they should present themselves without care then?" Zenma asked curiously.

"Ha! They are too vain to. They wish to shine as much as possible. You know, since those at the Ceremony back in Alagaesia, will not be able to see anything else but the Riders and Dragons through the mirrors." Ismira felt Itha acknowledging the truth of her words. "It just amuses me to see these fierce creatures, worrying over their appearance so much each year. The young maidens in my village were not us anxious during the Spring Festival. And they would spend a whole week picking wildflowers and another three days braiding them in their hair. Some even slept in chairs, so that their designs would not be disturbed." The memories field her with mirth. She was glad Itha did not wish to decorate herself as some of those bonded with Dwarves did.

Zenma turned to look at her reflection in the pool. She started shining her right horn. "Do you not use magic to stimulate growth in the land during your Spring Festival? Does it not affect the humans too? I imagine it is not so difficult for those maidens to find a willing mate"

Ismira frowned. "No, it is the elves that do that. We humans do not use magic that way" Magic was extremely controlled in the Varden Empire. If any magician tried that in a Spring Festival, the Wandering Path would find them and they would lose their heads before dawn. In the eyes of High Queen Nasuada and her government, using magic without permission was a serious crime. Using magic to control another human, equaled a death sentence.

Zenma gave another look at her reflection. She grimaced and resumed her scrubbing.

Ismira ended her spell. The pools had filled according to her liking. She stood and left the Urgals as she sought another set of pools where she could bathe in privacy and calm. As much calm as the dragons allowed, with their flapping around like pigeons in fright.

Itha send her a wave of annoyance at the comparison. Ismira tried to hide another wave of laughter from her dragon. The vanity of their race seemed to have no limits.

She reached a pool hidden behind reeds. _This one looks good_ she thought. Urgals and Elves had no shame in bathing naked in the open. Males and females commonly bathed together. Most Humans and Dwarves, though, still preferred to bathe in privacy. Many Baths in Dragonmount were shared, but usually they were dimly lit or in complete darkness. But here, in the daylight, she would be completely exposed. She preferred the privacy of a protected pool.

The Riders had built the Desert Pools soon after establishing Dragonmount. Since Dragons enjoyed the sand dunes of the desert south of the Dragonmount range, Riders visited here often. They had decided to build a complex of pools that a Rider could easily fill with water using magic. The pools were interconnected and were made of packed earth and stone. They had placed enchantments so that the pools could fill without the water escaping in the surrounding earth and would always remain clean. There were shields here too, to protect them from sandstorms and any predatory animals that wished to relieve their thirst. The Elves had made the shields so that the animals were prevented from coming too close when a Rider was near, but were free to come when the pools were empty. As if the presence of a Dragon would not scare them away.

The Riders had added decorations as well and tried to make them a relaxing and calming oasis. Humans and Dwarves had also added plants and had shaped the grounds to make some of the pools private. It was an unspoken rule that a Rider and their Dragon could use one of these pools alone without disturbance.

Ismira took off her clothes and slowly submerged in the pool. The water was cool against her skin. She sat near the edge and scrubbed her body to remove the sand that caked her. The heat of the desert had made her sweaty. The sun was starting to be visible above her, but the water helped keep her cool. _The dragons must be finishing with their rolling._ She sensed Itha lying on top of a dune, enjoying the warmth.

The Dragons loved it here, but when she was new here, she had found the heat of the desert unbearable. She had let Itha come here on her own. The climate in Carvahall, where she grew, was much colder. Dragonmount was also high enough that she had felt little difference when she first arrived. She sometimes wondered if that was why Master Eragon had chosen it. She liked to think that the main grounds, with mountains on either side, and one side open, had a likeness to their former home. She had never asked. He had not returned in Alagaesia since leaving. She thought she saw nostalgia and sorrow in his eyes when they spoke of home.

She finished cleaning herself and swam deeper in the pool. She turned on her back and floated, looking up at the blue sky. Her bronze hair floated around her, shining. A soft wind blew, rustling the nearby reeds. She smiled at the burning sun, her face tingling. After almost eight years she was used to its bite here. Her skin was tanned and she had learnt spells to protect her from sunburns and heal them if they appeared.

Her thoughts turned to the chores that awaited her. All students helped to prepare for the yearly Celebrations. The date was never set, as the eggs hatched on their own pace, so they had little time to get ready. They had one Celebration each year though, that was always welcomed with much excitement. It was the only time the Riders on Dragonmount shared a celebration with the people in Alagaesia, able to observe and participate with the help of enchanted mirrors.

As a senior student, she had many things to do yet. She was not a full Rider, her education not complete, but that did not mean she would be allowed to sit idle. _I should visit Eaglegate later. I need a new belt. First, though I should consult with Lord Blodhgarm, see if he needs my help._

She closed her eyes and tried to make a plan in her head. She liked being organized and her teachers praised her for it. And as often, they scolded her for losing her temper if things did not go the way she planned.

She heard a dragon coming closer to her pool. She opened her eyes and saw Itha stick her head through the reeds.

 _Itha! Do not come through the reeds, you may uproot them. Fly in instead!_ Ismira quickly righted herself, swimming to the edge and submerging her body up to her neck. Through the opening Itha had created, she saw Rhazin. He was still shining his horns and was not looking her way.

 _Oh, yes,_ Itha replied. She removed her head and a few moments later flew over. She landed in the platform dedicated for this purpose and slithered in to the pool. Her long body not constrained, she swam and submerged her head. Every pool was designed for Riders and Dragons both.

Sharing her dragon's happiness, Ismira started washing her clothes.

 _How do I look, Ismira? Did I do a good enough job, you think?_ Itha turned her body, so that her Rider could judge her work.

 _Perfect, as always. Your snout is so shiny; I can see my reflection._

Itha, snorted and threw water at her Rider with her tail.

Ismira laughed. She finished with her clothes and left them on a rock to dry.

Itha put her head underwater again. She liked to test how long she could hold her breath.

Ismira pulled herself out of the pool and laid down on a rock to sunbathe. Turning her head to the sky again, she closed her eyes. Midday was approaching. They would have to leave soon. Maybe there was still some time for a little nap.

 _Ismira!_ Itha pulled her head out of the water and looked at the sky, her neck tight as a bowstring.

Ismira opened her eyes. She could not see anything. She quickly dropped in the water and swam to her dragon's side. _What is it?_

 _There,_ excitedly, Itha let Ismira see through her eyes. The blue of the sky was not as bright to the dragon as it was for the Rider, but a red spot could easily be seen, bright in the sky and moving towards Dragonmount in the North. A dragon.

 _Murtagh and Thorn,_ Itha said with utter certainty. _And at this height. They are definitely going to land on Dragonmount._


	8. Chapter 7- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle**

Chapter 7

" _Brother!"_ Eragon called with his voice and with his mind. Saphira roared in calling and breathed fire. Thorn roared in answer. Murtagh laughed. He waved at them from Thorn's back.

The two dragons circled each other in the sky.

"A fine day for flying" Murtagh shouted. "But we come all the way from the desert. How about something to drink?"

Eragon laughed. "At your service".

Saphira turned and headed for their private tower on Dragonmount. Thorn flew slightly behind her, letting her lead. They landed in one of the landing spots dedicated to their guests.

Both Riders dismounted and hugged. "You look well, Brother" Eragon commented "What news?".

"I 'll tell you over that drink you promised"

"Then come. I got a new barrel of dwarven ale last week. We can open it together." He started leading him towards his rooms.

 _They brought plenty for the dragons as well. Let's go have our drink and then we can hunt together,_ Saphira told Thorn. Eragon felt Thorn's satisfaction and the two dragons flew off together.

"Saphira missed Thorn. She may not like to admit it, but she has been looking forward for the company of a dragon that does not call her Mistress"

Murtagh gave him an amused look "And let me guess, someone she can also drink with, to her heart's content? Without the pressure to set an example?"

"That too". Eragon led his brother inside the tower, to a sitting room he had for entertaining friends.

He opened the barrel of ale he had in the corner and filled two mugs. He gave one to Murtagh and they sat on a pair of armchairs near the balcony, facing the main grounds.

"This is very good ale. You honor me Eragon. Of course, to be honest, I might have said that for anything you gave me to drink. After six years…" he took another sip. "Mmmm, perfect"

Eragon studied his half-brother. His face was thinner and his hair longer. His skin was heavily tanned from the sun and his hair had golden highlights.

"Maybe you should not stay away for so long then"

Murtagh sighed.

He had come to Dragonmount two years after the Death of Galbatorix. For three years he used it as his base, while exploring the lands around with Thorn. Most maps they had were of his making. Twelve years ago, he had visited Alagaesia, but had not stayed long. Nasuada had gotten pregnant before his visit. For two more years he stayed on Dragonmount and helped Eragon teach the new generation of Riders. Then suddenly, ten years ago he left with Thorn. They traveled for two years. Came back. Then traveled for two more. Came back. And then they were gone for six years.

Eragon felt as though he was searching for something. He had seemed content to stay on Dragonmount. He was a surprisingly good teacher. All students liked him, even the Dwarves he taught. Then he decided to leave everything behind and go exploring again. North and East and South.

"Perhaps we will stay a while" he said carefully.

"I hope you do" Eragon smiled at him, but knew his brother was lying. Whatever Murtagh was searching for, it was not on Dragonmount _. Or whomever_. Last time he came back; he had gone to Ileria for another visit. He had stayed for almost two months. Eragon had not asked what he and Nasuada spoke of. When he came back on Dragonmount, he had gotten drunk. He spoke of "her". That he remembered. And he felt closer to her now. And something about the death of Galbatorix, that it had gotten his mind free.

He would not speak of it again and Eragon had not pushed him. He was not the right person to give advice on such matters. No matter how much Murtagh was tormented by the absence of the High Queen of the Varden, he refused to go to her. Eragon had not intervened. It was his brother's right to do as he saw best.

"Where did the winds take you this time, Brother?" Eragon asked.

Murtagh sat more comfortably in his armchair. "South. It was South we went and there we stayed all this time"

"For six whole years!" They had not realized that this part of the world would be so vast. Mostly, it was uninhabited, but every year they found new wonders. Eragon had not taken it upon himself to explore it, but he was fascinated by the reports from Murtagh and the other Riders.

"Yes, the Beor Mountains continue far to the East. They seem to be much higher here, if that is even possible. We tried to explore as much as we could. Here…" he took a rolled map out of his coat and gave it to Eragon.

He opened it and took a good look. Murtagh had great skill in mapmaking. This one had much detail. It depicted the east part of the continent. A vast land of mountains and rivers and forests and plains and deserts. Their new home.

He focused on the southern part, the new additions. South of Dragonmount lay vast plains. Southern still was the Great Desert the dragons loved so much. And even more south the mountains they had name The Forbidden Heights.

Murtagh explained "The mountains are too high to fly over here. We spend most of our time trying to find passages between them. We made slow progress. The foot of the mountains is dry, like the desert. The deeper you go; the more vegetation appears. Eventually great forests appear. We delved deep and the scenery was always changing around us. At some point we even saw trees bigger than those in Ellesmera. A few as big as the Menoa tree. Some even bigger."

Eragon felt awe at that. Murtagh had tried to mark many of those giants on his map. "Yara will be thrilled to know of these"

Murtagh nodded. "She was right. The land here feels old. The magic here wilder." There were many strange symbols on the map. No doubt the locations of the wonders they had encountered.

"Did you find out what lies beyond the mountains?"

"No" Murtagh frowned. "We tried and tried and tried. But we never made it. For six whole years we travelled back and forth, trying to go deeper, but we never found a way out of the mountain range. I threw my mind far. As far as I could. I think the sea lies beyond. But I never got a single glimpse" his voice had an urgent tone. _What are you looking for, Murtagh?_

"Maybe they go as far as the ocean to the east. We did not get that far. But we could…" he seemed to be talking to himself.

Eragon allowed him to ponder and silently sipped his drink.

 **Please review ;)**


	9. Chapter 8- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

Chapter 8

"I saw the structures on the main grounds" Murtagh said. "Is it time for another Celebration?"

"The day after tomorrow. Your timing is perfect. You can help with the preparations"

"Where is it taking place this time?"

"Ellesmera"

Murtagh gave him a knowing smile. Eragon ignored him.

"All four eggs have hatched again this year" he changed the subject.

"Ah, that is great news indeed!" Murtagh raised his mug for a toast and finished it. He set it on a nearby table and looked at the view outside. "What of the other dragons? And the wild ones? Any more problems?"

"I am afraid yes." He told him about Vaalyun. How his dragon had died and he had killed himself after. About the problems with the eggs and the wild dragons they had encountered while he was away.

Murtagh seemed troubled. "Much worse than I would have thought. It worsens each year, doesn't it, Eragon? Things were not half as bad last time I was here. So many, in such a short period of time…"

Eragon agreed with him. "Yes, so it seems. Things are worsening"

"Perhaps… Perhaps we should not change the enchantments one any other eggs. What will be will be. The suffering for a bonded pair though…"

Eragon knew what he meant. The mere thought sent a stabbing pain in his stomach. "I agree. I have come to the same conclusion. The eggs we sent this year are of the new generation"

Murtagh was still half lost in his thoughts.

"We sent Saphira's egg as well."

That picked Murtagh's interest. "And? Who did it hatch for?"

"A human"

"Ha! Like mother like son, eh?" Murtagh said merrily. "I think we need to celebrate that with another drink" He went to the barrel and filled his mug.

"A young human boy"

"Is he a farmer too? With a much better looking half-brother?" Murtagh teased him and raised his mug to drink.

"His name is Sipho. He is the son of High Queen Nasuada."

Murtagh's hand froze, the mug halfway to his mouth. "Oh" he said.

"Nasuada had gone to Ellesmera too. I talked with Arya. She said Nasuada has been… difficult."

"That I can imagine" Murtagh muttered and returned to his seat.

"Arya looked troubled. And a bit angry I think. But things cannot be as bad. Nasuada is Queen above everything else. The boy was her only heir, it is true, but she is still young and can have other children. With whatever the father she chooses. I never learnt Sipho's father. Maybe the boy will tell me when he comes here"

"She told me the father died soon after they conceived. An ambush, she claimed. From her enemies."

Eragon was surprised at that. Murtagh had never talked of this before. His Brother seemed to be in a bad mood all of a sudden. "Do you know who he was?"

"No"

Eragon waited, but Murtagh said no more. "Anyway, Nasuada will be sad, but she will get over this. The boy may never be King, but being a Rider is a great honor. He could dedicate himself to their Kingdom. A better protector she will not find."

"She has a Protector already. Has that Human Rider, Dane, not sworn fealty to her?"

"Yes, he has. Still, Nasuada will be glad in the long run"

Murtagh snorted and gave Eragon a dark look.

"She will never be glad for that. I am sure she believes this to be the worst fate for her son. Things will only get worse. She will start blaming you and me and all Riders for trying to sabotage her kingdom"

Eragon started protesting.

"No, Eragon. Listen to me. You have been busy here, and perhaps did not take the reports coming from Alagaesia too seriously. I talked to Nasuada six years ago. I do not expect her to have changed her mind."

"About what?"

"She hates magic, Eragon. No, she loathes it. Magic and everyone who practices magic. She had accepted the Riders, but she does not trust us. She hides things from us. Not even half of the news will reach our ears." Murtagh's voice was low and dark. "She has a… paranoia… I guess. No other word describes it."

"I have heard some of this. I did not think it would be that bad."

"You always wish to think the best of people."

"Nasuada is a great Queen, Murtagh. She will accept this turn of events and will not upset the peace between us. For that I am certain."

Murtagh was doubtful. "We should be prepared for any scheme she comes up with. She will never harm the boy… or the dragon I hope. But she is the most cunning woman I know of. If anyone can find a way to make that boy King, it is her."

"A Rider can never again be King over Humans."

"She will make everything she can, so that the boy never becomes a full Rider."

Eragon did not like the implications in his brother's voice. "That is enough, Murtagh."

The other Rider was angry.

"If you worry so much, you could go to Alagaesia and bring the boy here yourself, before the others. That way Nasuada will have no time to scheme, as you fear" Eragon said, knowing very well that that was something Murtagh would never do.

"I should do that, yes. Alagaesia does not need another Galbatorix"

Eragon did not try to hide the shock from his face _. So that is that what he fears? That Nasuada will raise the boy to become another Dark Tyrant?_

"Murtagh… Don't be…"

Murtagh rose from his seat. His mug was still full. "Thorn and I leave tomorrow."

"Stay for the Celebration at least, Murtagh! You will need two weeks to reach Ilirea. A few more days will not make a difference!"

"No, I will be there and back within a month. And the boy and his dragon will be safe"

"But…"

Murtagh raised a hand to stop him. "It is my duty, Brother. I did terrible things for Galbatorix. Terrible. I will not let Alagaesia suffer again. Neither from another Rider King nor Nasuada's attempts to poison the Empire's ties with the Riders."

Eragon had nothing to say to him. A kernel of fear has taken root inside him. _What if Murtagh is right?_

His brother turned and went to find Thorn.

 **Please review ;)**


	10. Chapter 9- Arya

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

Chapter 9

A silvery light showered her. It was everywhere. It was nowhere. The moon was full. She could see it from the window high up in the wall. She could hear the shuffling of boots. Or was it birdsong? How could she not know the difference? _Have I lost my mind?_

I need to escape! These cells were made for Humans, not Elves. She could easily break the bars. _I_ _can escape. Why can't I?_

She tried to lift herself off the stone slab she was laid upon. She failed. She tried to lift her arm. Pain flared. Her back was burning. She chocked on a sob. Her lungs burned.

They had worked on her for a long time. All through the night and the day. She had heard the men muttering amongst themselves. The Shade had been vicious. He had worked with a grin in his face. She had retreated deep in her mind, protecting herself from his mind assaults. She had given him nothing. But he had taken everything. She had trouble distinguishing what was real and what not. I am going crazy.

Another sob escaped her. She tasted blood in her mouth. They had broken something inside her. They had been careless. Maybe she was bleeding to death.

 _Death is preferable from this torture._

But the Shade would heal her again soon. They never left her rest long. Only to suffer.

She heard bells in the distance. Coming closer. Outside her cell. She tried to look but could not turn her head.

The door opened and someone entered. She could not see who.

Keys clicked and the door was locked again.

A man stood above her. One of the soldiers. He stood looking at her. He smiled.

That gave her courage. Maybe he could help her escape.

"Help…" she chocked. "Help…please"

The man came closer. He caressed her hair. "Our hospitality is not to your liking, eh?" He put his mouth on top of hers. She tasted wine. "I will make it up to you honey" he laughed.

He put his hands on her hips and removed her trousers. She tried to fight him with her mind and her magic. But she could not. The poison they were giving her had made her weak. The potion that made her unable to use magic was working too well.

He removed his own trousers and climbed on the slab, on top of her. She started whimpering. He seemed to like that. He put his hand under her shirt, all the way to her breasts.

He laughed again. He touched her where no one had ever touched her before. Tears streamed down her eyes. He did what no one had ever done to her before. His violent thrust sent her head against the stone wall.

 _Oh, let him kill me! Please, stop! Please, save me!_

 _Arya!_

 _Faolin? Is that you?_

 _Arya!_

 _Please, help me!_

 _Arya!_

 _Faolin! Faolin!_

She woke drenched in sweat. She was in her bed. In Ellesmera. She was trembling

 _Arya!_ Firnen's head was above her. His eyes were full of panic.

 _It is in the past Arya. You are now safe. I will never let anything like that happen to you again. Ever._ He filled her mind with comforting thoughts.

She hugged his neck and cried.

They stayed that way for a long time. Until Arya's sobs subsided. She lifted her head and looked deep into his eyes. _Thank you, Firnen._

 _Little one._ He ruffled her hair with a warm breath.

The sun was starting to rise, bathing the trees in golden light.

She stood, dizzy and knocked a glass bottle to the floor. _Wine. From Aroughs._ No wonder it had gotten so in her head. Humans did not know how to produce truly good vintages.

She left it there and staggered to her bathroom. She filled the deep basin with hot water.

 _The Celebration is today._ Firnen said, excited, trying to lift her spirits.

She grunted and entered the basin. The hot water scalded her skin.

 _Be careful Arya! You might burn yourself!_

She laughed. _I'll be fine._ She started scrubbing her skin trying to clean the filth she felt coating her.

 _I guess I should prepare as well._

 _Go Firnen. I am well._ The dragon hesitated. _Truly._

He made his way to the opening on the wall, but still hesitated, looking back at her.

She smiled at him. _Go make your scales shine! Saphira will be watching you tonight!_

He snorted, but anxiously flew away.

Her skin was red from the heat and the scrubbing. _That's enough or my skin will bleed._

She let the basin drain and dried herself. She went in her study and looked at her hair in the mirror there. Soon, females from her House would come to help her dress. She turned to go fetch her clothes. No need to let them dress her up like a doll.

Her eyes fell on Faolin's fairth. Her stomach knotted. Her knees shook and she clutched her desk for support.

 _Today I must be strong. I need to keep my mind clear._ She hid her panicky thoughts from Firnen. Keeping her eyes on the floor, she run to her cabinet and grabbed a bottle of faelnirv. _Just a small sip_ she told herself. _Just to keep my voice steady._

 **Please review ;)**


	11. Chapter 10- Ismira

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review :)**

Chapter 10

"Do you think I need more curls in my hair?"

"No, my dear. Wavy hair looks better on you. No need to make the curls too tight" Hilda finished closing Ismira's dress on the back.

"Thank you, Hilda" Ismira turned and gave the Dwarf Rider a kiss on her cheek.

Hilda returned the smile. "No need to thank me. The moment I saw this dress; I knew it was for you"

"And you were right. It is very beautiful" she turned to admire the dress on the mirror once more. It had a tight bodice and was flaring at the bottom. Made of a light brownish green tulle with dark red poppies cascading down the front, it would be different from the dresses others would wear. But Ismira loved its simplicity. She had planned to wear one of her old dresses with a new belt from Eaglegate, but Hilda had surprised her with this gift.

"Very earthy" Hilda said. "You will impress all the Elves" she smirked at her.

"Do you think it is too tight? And the material is a bit thin. Can you see my legs in the light?" she said, suddenly worried.

Hilda put a soothing hand on Ismira's back. "It looks great on you my friend. You need not worry about its appropriateness. The rules of your old home must not restrict you anymore." Hilda gave another smile and placed her hand on her own bulging belly.

"Yes, I suppose you are right" Ismira answered her.

The dwarf had certainly forgotten the prejudice of her own race. She was the first Rider to be expecting a child. She had returned from Alagaesia seven months ago already pregnant. She said the father was a dwarf from a different clan than her family's, but did not say his name, fearing for his safety back home. Thick headed fouls she called her brethren who did not look kindly to those finding partners outside of their clan. The Dwarf Riders on Dragonmount had not protested. But their studies and the proximity with other races, made the Riders more accepting.

"You look splendid as well, Hilda. Are you feeling well?"

"I feel perfectly fine. The baby is growing strong, but she is not yet ready. At least another week I think."

Her due date was fast approaching. The pregnancies of Dwarves were longer than Human's, Ismira had learned, close to one year. And yet, she looked even more radiant than usual. Ismira had seen many pregnant women in her old home puff and grunt the closer they came to the birthing day. Their backs would ache, their feet would swell and they were constantly tired. But Hilda never complained. She rather enjoyed the extra care all Riders took with her.

Her golden hair curled around her pointy ears and fell to her back. Her grey blue eyes sparkled in the lights of Ismira's room. She had chosen a lace cream dress that was tight against her belly and had gold bracelets around her wrists and a golden chain around her left ankle. On her feet were soft cream slippers trimmed with golden thread.

"Ready?" Hilda asked her.

"Yes, I think"

"Then let's go" she said and went outside, where her golden dragon, Vishkas, was waiting perched next to Itha in the garden.

"Oh" Ismira grimaced. "I think I'd rather walk. I don't want to tear the fabric on Itha's scales"

Hilda nimbly made her way up Vishkas' leg and up to his back despite her pregnancy. She had not stopped flying nor training with the other Riders. The Elves had helped her weave many spells to make things easier for her. Sitting proudly on her dragon she seemed to shine with inner light.

"I'll find us a nice spot then" she said to Ismira and Vishkas unfurled his wings and flew off. Itha followed them.

Ismira left her room and hurried down the corridors of the Student's Residence. As she took a right turn, she almost collided with Emery and Rhezin.

"Ismira! You are very beautiful tonight" Emery kissed her hand, his turquoise eyes taking in her dress.

"You too, Emery, Rhezin" she smiled at them both.

Emery gave her a dashing smile. "I was just telling Rhezin, how Boldrer abandoned me and flew to the main grounds. Did not want me to disturb his jewelry he said"

"All dragons like to fly in. The mirrors have been connected with Alagaesia. They like making an entrance." Rhezin said in his deep voice. His horns were shining and he had placed a golden chain to decorate them.

"Shall we make our own entrance then?" Emery said and offered his arm to Ismira. She took it with an inner groan. Emery was the son of a very wealthy Varden Lord. He had kept his mannerisms since coming here four years ago.

As they exited to the main grounds, Blodhgarm followed them from a side corridor.

She let go of Emery's arm and made a deep bow to him.

His yellow eyes found hers and his musk washed over her. Her toes curled and her breathing quickened. She would have blushed a deep scarlet had she not been using a spell to prevent it from showing.

"Blodhgarm!" Mistress Yara joined them wearing a flowy brown dress decorated with leaves and twigs. The twin cuts on the sides of her dress reached almost to the middle of her thighs, letting her legs show as she walked. "I have been looking for you" She took Blodhgarm by his arm and took him to the side. They seemed to be having a serious conversation.

Ismira tried to hide her annoyance and turned towards the main grounds without a word. She tried to keep her back straight and her face composed while scanning the grounds for Itha.

The majority of the space was taken by huge domed structures made of mirrors. Instead of reflecting their surroundings, they showed Ellesmera, where the Celebration was taking place this year. Balls of light floated in the air, illuminating the space. This year they had a central dome, showing the clearing where most of the celebrations were to take place, as well as many other tendril like structures delving into the forest. The Great Mirrors were of an intricate design, crafted to make the Riders feel part of the Celebration. If they wished. They could choose to only observe or they could sit near one of the dedicated spots where those in Alagaesia could also see them. Nothing else of Dragonmount could be seen. In an effort to protect those staying here and their secrets, the details of the city of the Dragonriders remained a mystery to most.

Most Riders and Dragons had already arrived. She could see almost all the elves in Dragonmount in front of a mirror, talking to friends and family back home. All the Dragons were splendid. Their shining scales reflected the lights around them. Many had chosen to add jewels or other decorations in their paws and wings and tails and any other part of their body they wished. She saw two dragons, one bonded to a Dwarf and one to an Urgal, wearing full dragon armor. Another, bonded to a Human, had braided ribbons in every color on the spikes of her back and they were flowing like a river of color in the wind.

Ismira smiled at the beauty all around her, forgetting her disappointment.

Spotting Itha, she parted ways with Emery and Rhezin.

Hilda had chosen a communication spot in the central dome. She had seated herself in a high backed chair her hands hugging her belly. Ismira stood beside her.

 _What did I miss?_ She asked Itha.

 _A lot of Elves wanting to wish well on Hilda's pregnancy._ She sensed her dragon's exasperation.

"The Celebration for the Hatching of Itha was in Ellesmera as well, wasn't it Ismira?"

"It was yes." She did not like to remember about it.

"Mmmm, eight years already. How time flies."

"Indeed."

There was a flair of activity in the clearing. Riders and their Dragons arrived and sited themselves in a circle around two raised platforms. One for the new members of their Order and one for other representatives of the races that had come to honor them.

"Ours was in Ileria" Hilda said. "Fourteen years ago". Vishkas put his snout near her cheek and Hilda stroked him with care. "They were still rebuilding. I remember being slightly disappointed." She barked a laugh. "Of course, it could never have compared with the splendor of Tronjheim." Her eyes glistened at the memory of her home. And the one she had left there. "Never" she repeated.

Ismira grew wary. It was unlike Hilda to show so much emotion. Especially sadness. _Must be her pregnancy._

 _Do you think the baby will soon come?_ Itha asked her worriedly.

 _Any day now._

 _I hope not tonight. I like seeing the Celebrations._ Itha slightly unfurled her wings in anticipation.

"I remember seeing Queen Nasuada. It was the most exciting part of the Celebration for me. The hero of the War! I had never met her while she was in Tronjheim you know. My family lived in Tarnag and we had never met. She had looked so majestic to me at the Celebration. When I saw her, I thought that the stories of her grace and might I had heard had all been true."

"There she is" Ismira whispered to her. News had leaked that the High Queen of the Varden had gone to Ellesmera for this year's Celebration. That her only son Sipho had been bonded and she wished to bless them. It was also whispered that that was the reason Murtagh and Thorn had left so suddenly, having stayed in Dragonmount for only one night.

"And now things have changed." Hilda said with sorrow.

Ismira had met Nasuada only once, but she had seen her through the mirrors while in Dragonmount and she had seen many drawings and fairths of the Queen. Her appearance now shocked her. Her dress was a deep red silk with gold adornments on her shoulders and a long cape trailing behind her. It was a stiff cut that left her arms uncovered and the faints lines of her scars from the Trial of the Long Knives were visible. Her hair was arranged in a complicated pattern around her heavy crown. She entered with her back straight and head high. But the splendor of her appearance could not hide the paleness of her lips or her bony arms or the bones protruding from her shoulders. Her face had a harsh expression but her eyes were dull. Ismira would almost call her sickly.

"Nasuada is a shadow of her former self. I fear now, she will let herself waste away." Hilda commented, looking at the Human Queen with her lips tight.

"Why do you say that Hilda? What is wrong now?"

"Look, Ismira! How she clutches the boy's hand!"

Ismira had not noticed the boy at her side. He had his mother's dark skin and was wearing an outfit similar to hers. He held a pale blue hatchling with one hand. His other hand was crushed by Nasuada's.

"A mother saying goodbye to her son. Nothing else, Hilda. I imagine you might have felt the same."

The Dwarf turned to her with an angry expression. "When my daughter is chosen, I will feel nothing but pride."

Ismira was taken aback by her friend's anger. "I did not mean…"

"Look at her Ismira. She does not wish to let go. That is not a mother's love, that is a collector's greed. She does not care for her son's happiness, she grieves, for now he will never follow her on the throne!"

Ismira sensed that her friend was right. Nasuada had stopped in front of the first platform. Arya had appeared before her. The Elven Queen was radiant in her golden- green attire. But her eyes were flashing with anger as she said something to Nasuada and took young Sipho by the shoulders. Nasuada reluctantly let go and Arya led him on the platform.

Nasuada stood there and looked at them. The other three new Riders had arrived and made their way around her to go stand at their place. Sipho seemed content to be near his new Brothers and Sisters.

A young woman touched Nasuada at her arm and motioned her towards the other platform. Her violet dress matched the color of her eyes and was embroidered in the back with the same sign as the one on her brow.

"The witch child is always near." Hilda hissed.

"And has her Majesty's trust" Ismira warned her.

Nasuada made her way towards her sit. Elva sat beside her and the sorceress Trianna sat at her other side. Lex, the captain of Nasuada's guard stood behind Elva.

"Married, are they not?"

"Elva and Lex? I believe they married last year."

Hilda kept on observing them. "And here comes the… Protector" she said with disgust.

Ismira felt her own unease rise. A Human Rider was kneeling in front of Nasuada, a teal dragon behind him. Dane, the Rider that had sworn fealty to Nasuada and had named himself protector of her realm. With a nod from his Queen he rose and stood behind her chair.

He looked proud in his position and was ignoring the looks from the other Riders. His actions might have echoed that of Master Eragon's during the War, but times were different now. No Rider was supposed to dedicate himself to only on one ruler.

Arya took her place between the two platforms and raised her hands in welcome. Flowers showered her from the branches of the Menoa Tree above her. She gave them a radiant smile and started her ceremonial speech.

A dark clocked figure stepped in front of the mirror Ismira and Hilda were watching through. It took up most of the space and prevented them from watching the proceedings.

Hilda shifted in her seat, annoyed. "Can you please…?" the words died in her throat.

The figure had turned at the sound of her voice. A male Elf. But like no other Elf, Ismira had ever laid eyes upon. The skin on his face was tight around his bones and had a yellow hue. His mouth was open with a gruesome grin, showing sharpened teeth. He was drooling and his yellow eyes had a crazy shine in them. They were constantly moving.

"He he he" he croaked in a monstrous imitation of a laugh.

Ismira felt cold sweat run down her back. Even though he was in Ellesmera and could not possibly hurt her, she felt fear clutch her heart as a dagger appeared in his hands. It was caked in dried blood.

The two Dragons were frozen at their sides. She heard a sharp breath from Hilda.

At the sound, the Elf turned and looked at Hilda. He gave another laugh and licked his lips. "Delicious" he said.

Hilda gave a sharp intake of air and clutched at her belly. Her face contracted in intense pain. Ismira was instantly at her side. "Hilda?"

The Dwarf gasped for air. Ismira grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from falling.

There were shouts all around her and the sound of mirrors shuttering.

"My… my… daughter" pain swam in Hilda's eyes. She looked at the Elf and gave a moan of pain. "Please…no" she begged him.

Ismira looked back at him in alarm. Her fear was irrational. _He cannot harm us._

"Delicious" he repeated with a grin. He laughed again and threw his dagger at the mirror, shuttering it and cutting their connection with Ellesmera. But not before Ismira saw what was happening. The ground slipped under her and her stomach convulsed.

Hilda screamed. She fell, kneeling in front of her chair. The bottom of her dress was soaked red with her blood.


	12. Chapter 11- Nasuada

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle**

 **Please review :)**

Chapter 11

Elva brushed her fingers against Nasuada's hand. "Patience, my Queen" she murmured.

Nasuada sat straighter on her chair. She held her hands so tightly on her lap she thought the bones would snap. Her eyes did not leave her son. He was made to stand with the other new Riders in a platform near hers. A platform that was not hers.

Elva lightly touched her mind and Nasuada granted her entrance. She was vigilant with the shields around her mind, not allowing entrance to anyone but Elva. _Soon, Arya will do as we demand and Sipho will be back at your side. I have a few ideas already. Maybe later, I can speak with Arya alone._

A wave of gratitude swept through her. _Are you sure, Elva? Can you convince her?_

 _Arya is weak. I will test her tonight, but I am certain. She WILL do as we want. Perhaps we will be able to leave by the end of the week. All of us._

Nasuada favored her with a smile. The young woman was her closest companion. She could confide everything to her and Elva would always give her the best advice. Her skills in feeling the pain of others were vital to Nasuada's government. And had kept her and her son alive for all those years. The Human lands were often plagued with rebellion and strife. But Nasuada had been strong on her throne thanks to Elva.

She turned back to her son. He was laughing with something the new Urgal Rider was telling him. Nasuada gave them a secret smile. Let the Elves see that and think she was happy for her son's new role. _Soon. Soon, all this will be behind us._

He had not yet shown any signs of magical abilities. She had asked Dane. He said it took time for them to evolve. Trianna said that if the bond was broken now, he will likely never develop them. _He will be pure. Pure and clean._

He was so regal tonight. She has chosen his outfit to echo her own. A deep red outfit with golden adornments on the shoulders. His dark curls were shining in the Elven lights floating above his head.

 _More magic._ She tried not to shudder at the thought of all this magic around her. Elves were careless in its use, publically demonstrating their skills. She wished she was back at her castle. She wondered how long it would take to clean this filth off of her. Magic was regulated in her Empire. Every magician monitored. And those that did not co-operate were dealt with as they deserved.

 _But my Sipho, he will soon be free. Elva will see to it._

They had frowned at his outfit. It was a tradition, they said, that a Rider will wear the colors of his dragon during the Celebration. She did not let them. Red suited him much better. The pale blue they wanted for him would wash him out, hide his best features. _It would not work well with his dark skin._

Dark skin like hers and like his father's. It was a Human member of her Nighthawks from the Wandering Tribes that had sired him. She had decided that her heir would have her blood. Only her blood would matter. Why should she, who had liberated this land and had not broken before Galbatorix, water down her line with the blood of a lesser Lord? Who could ever prove himself worthy of the honor? _There is one. One whose cursed dragon is the color of my dress. If only he had abandoned him, denounced magic and had chosen her._

She checked the mirror again, trying to catch a glimpse of him. She could not spot him anywhere. _Had he not come? Again?_

She could see Eragon standing next to Saphira. She glanced away, not wanting for them to catch her watching. She was in no mood to talk with them tonight. _They will only cause more problems._

She saw Ismira, Roran's daughter in one of the mirrors nearby. She was standing next to a female dwarf. A pregnant Dwarf Rider! Nasuada felt surprised at that.

"Dane" she said to the Rider behind her.

"Yes, my liege?"

"Who is the Rider standing next to Ismira Katrinasdaughter?"

"That is Hilda, my queen."

"I had not heard of her pregnancy."

"I knew nothing of it myself, my Queen, until today. It seems it was kept secret at Dragonmount."

Nasuada frowned at that. _What have you been hiding, Eragon? Maybe I should speak with him after all._

She averted her gaze as Arya stepped between the platforms and raised her hands, welcoming them. Flowers showered them from above.

Not for the first time, Nasuada wished the Elven Queen had left with Eragon. The boy had been infatuated with her and Nasuada had thought that they had shared more than sparring matches during the War. _But, perhaps not. Maybe Arya did not want him, after all_.

She tried to focus on what the Elf was saying.

"…and theirs it a bond stronger than all others."

 _My boy's strongest bond is with his people. As yours should be as well if you want to call yourself Queen._

"They will protect the people of all the races, and ensure the peace and prosperity of all" Arya was smiling widely. She seemed to be a fine mood today. "We thank again the Guardians of the Eggs for safely transporting the eggs entrusted to us this year." She nodded towards a cluster of Riders in front of her. Between them, they were guarding four dragon eggs, enthroned in their caskets and ready to be ferreted across Alagaesia until they found their Riders.

"Let us now meet, the new members to the Order of the Dragonriders!" She elegantly turned to them, her golden cape flying behind her. The very image of grace. Her dragon Firnen turned with her. The two of them making a fine example of a strongly bonded pair.

"Four eggs have hatched again this year! The first to hatch was the one trusted to the Dwarves, seven months ago. The…"

A strangled scream interrupted her. Elva sharply rose from her chair. She made a panicked step forward and collapsed on the wooden platform. Lex caught her, before she could injure her head.

 _Danger! "_ Sipho! _"_

Nasuada rose too and turned to her son, meaning to run to him. She heard a collective gasp as every magic user in the clearing clutched their heads in pain. That did not stop her. _Something must be wrong with magic._ It did not touch her, for she was pure.

She stretched her hands, motioning to Sipho to come to her. "Sipho, come to me, quickly!" she called to him.

"Mother" he looked at her frightened and looked around uneasily and unsure of what to do. His dragon was perched on his shoulder.

The magic users were starting to come to their senses. "Nasuada! No!" Trianna's shout did not touch her.

The shuttering of mirrors pierced the night. She could see all the mirrors connecting them with Dragonmount explode.

Dark figures appeared in her peripheral vision. She saw them reach the eggs. She heard cracking sound.

She did not look back.

She was so close now.

Sipho was almost safely at her arms.

The boy started to come down from the platform, when a dark figure loomed behind him. It grabbed the dragon from the tail and snatched him from Sipho's shoulder. Her son turned. Nasuada had reached the platform.

She tried to pull her son down, her fingers brushing his tunic.

The dark figure made a quick movement with its free hand.

A sword glistened.

And took Sipho's head off, coating Nasuada's face with warm blood.


	13. Chapter 12- Ismira

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle**

 **Please review :)**

Chapter 12

Ismira's ears were ringing. She heard Itha's voice coming from far away. Calling her name. She kept her eyes shut. _It cannot be. It cannot. Who could ever…?_

A sharp jolt shook her. She opened her eyes.

She was crouched on the grass. _The Main Grounds. Dragonmount. Ellesmera is far far away._ A dragon's copper eye was in front of her face. She fell backwards. Hit a scaled wall.

 _Ismira._ Soothing feelings engulfed her. _You must not panic now. You have to stay calm._

 _Itha_. It was just Itha.

 _It is me, little one. Think not of what you saw. Your help is needed._

Ismira's heart was hammering against her was panting. _Itha, did you see…?_

 _What we saw…may not be true._ The dragon breathed warm air on her face. Her mind swept through her Rider's, trying to disperse her panicky thoughts. _Hilda needs your help Ismira, I think her baby is coming. Do you understand, Ismira?_

She was trying to get her thoughts in order. _Hilda?_

 _Her baby is coming, Ismira. This is not the time to panic!_

 _The baby!_

Ismira stood with shaky legs and Itha moved her head to the side.

Hilda was sprawled in front of her chair. She was clutching her belly and pain marked her face. Her dress had turned red. Her dragon, Vishkas let out a deep growl.

Ismira run to her side. "Hilda? The baby?"

Her friend was panting. She grabbed Ismira's arm with one hand. It was covered in blood. "Something is wrong. My child… Aaah!". A spasm of pain rocked her.

Ismira looked around her. There was a sense of panic in the air. No one was looking at them. She saw Master Eragon conferring with at least twenty Riders and Dragons. They were all trying to understand what had happened back to Ellesmera, talking to each other with wild expressions.

She pushed the memories away and cast her mind wide, looking for help.

She heard running feet and Mistress Yara was at her side. "What happened?"

"The baby. When the mirrors broke. I don't know…" she hid a panicked sob.

Yara appeared worried. She glanced at Vishkas and the dragon flew away. She gathered Hilda in her arms and started running towards the Healing Chambers without a backwards glance. Her feet were sure and the Dwarf's weight did not hinder her speed. Many stopped to look at her as she passed and some followed behind her.

 _Itha, go with Vishkas._ Her dragon lightly touched her shoulder before flying off.

Ismira run towards the Healing Chambers as well. She did not look at those she passed, nor did she stop to answer their questions. There was a clear path of blood in front of her. She tried not to step on any of it. As she run, she tried to remember what she knew of Dwarf pregnancies. She had taken an interest in Healing during her studies and had read about the health of all races _. For a human, her water would break, and there should be no blood at this point. For a Dwarf…?_ She could not think clearly… _But, no there shouldn't be so much blood._ She run faster.

In a blur, she entered the building. She run towards the Healing Chambers. A door to her right was open. This was one of a few buildings in Dragonmount not built for Dragons. The Healing Chambers were used by Riders and non-Rider residents of the city. And when a Rider was ill, Dragons could do little to help and more often than not were actually in the way. So, they waited in one of the higher levels. When the Healing was complete, their Rider would join them and there were rooms designed to house both, should the Rider have to stay here a little longer. It was there Hilda and the baby would be taken after.

As Ismira entered the room, she froze for a moment. Hilda was lying on a bed in the center of the chamber. Many figures were moving all around. Ismira could not focus on their faces. Someone had ripped Hilda's cream dress away and had discarded it on the floor. They had propped her feet up. Her thighs were red. A Dwarf male healer was standing at her side, whispering spells to restore the blood she was losing. Mistress Yara and Mistress Keya were talking with their heads close together at the foot of the bed. They both had great experience with Healing. Ismira was comforted that her friend was in the right hands. Mistress Keya was in her forty's when she was bonded and had experience from many births.

When Keya saw her standing at the entrance, she motioned her closer. "Ismira, go to her my dear. Keep her company. Keep her talking." She said with urgency.

Ismira nodded and hurried to her friend's side. She took hold of her left hand and squeezed. Hilda was looking at the ceiling with eyes dulled from pain and blood loss. Ismira put a hand on her cheek for comfort. It was wet with sweat. "Hilda, your daughter is coming" she whispered to her with a smile, trying to keep her spirits up and hide the worry from her voice.

The Dwarf looked at her. She was shaking. "Ismira…" she tried to smile, but grimaced from pain.

Instantly, Mistress Keya had a hand on Hilda's belly. She concentrated for a moment and then let a shocked gasp. "We need to sing the baby out of her womb. Now" The rest of the healers gathered around the bed.

 _What had Keya sensed?_ Ismira thought anxiously.

They started singing. A sweet melody that had a calming effect and filled her with hope that everything will be alright. Ismira turned back to Hilda not looking at their work.

Hilda's breathing had turned more laborious. Her face was pale.

"Hilda, it won't be long now. You will have her in your arms soon."

Hilda's eyes found hers. They held a deep desperation. "My daughter… can't… I"

Ismira stroked her golden hair. "It will be fine, my friend. You will meet her soon."

"They… they did this… the land…" she let out a shuddering breath. She desperately held Ismira's hand. "Did you see him? It was him. One… one of them" she screamed. More hands touched her. The chanting changed pace. Became more fervent.

 _Why is it taking so long?_

Hilda looked back at Ismira. There were tears in her eyes. "I had to leave" she moaned. "I could not have her… not there." Another wave of pain rocked her body. "It followed me… everywhere…our future…" She had trouble speaking. "No children… no children are born… dead… Ismira… the children…they will…" her eyes were losing their focus.

"Quickly" Ismira cried. The Healers sang even faster.

"…mother… no… more…no…no more…"

"Hilda!"

She heard a splashing of liquid on the floor. The chanting stopped. The baby was born. Ismira looked behind her. Mistress Keya held something red in her arms. It was not moving.

"children…" Hilda's voice was no more than a whisper now.

She was bleeding profusely. A pool had formed on the floor.

And the baby was not crying.

Mistress Keya was working over the baby, shaking her, blowing on her face, muttering spells. She was not responding.

"…curse…" Hilda sighed and her eyes rolled backwards.

Many others were around them. A new chanting begun.

Hilda was choking, unable to breath. Ismira held her head. She joined the others, trying to clear her airway so she could breath. Hilda spasmed and coughed up blood.

 _No!_ Ismira lost her concentration, the spells dying in her mind.

Hilda's eyes rolled to the side and found Ismira's. They were empty.

A final breath escaped her lungs. And Hilda the Fair passed away.


	14. Chapter 13- Nasuada and Elva

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review :)**

Chapter 13 

She screamed. She screamed until blood filled her mouth. She screamed as much as she had for the three whole days she was laboring to bring her child into this world.

 _My son! My only son! My Sipho!_

She could not see clearly. She had felt the blood vessels explode in her eyes. She could not see his face. _Where is it? Where is him?_

She was lying on the ground. Her nails had gouged deep into her cheeks, her throat, her arms, drawing blood.

She sensed them touching her. _Was it them? Those that took him? Where is my son? Why does he not come to me? Can't he hear me?_

"Kill me" she told them. _Kill me and let me see my son again. No! No! It is not real. It is not._

"My Queen? It is me, Dane" he touched her back.

"No! Save him! I beg you!" she felt hot tears run down her cheeks. They stung when touching the wounds her nails had left.

"My Queen" he chocked. "They were too fast"

'Noooooo" she sobbed. She did not care who saw her weeping. They had taken her future from her. She was left with nothing. Nothing.

The Rider lifted her from the ground and started walking away. Her body was shaking from shock. She could not see far from his face. Her vision was filled with red. She clutched his tunic.

 _My dear boy! They could not have done this! It is not real._

The Rider lowered her on a bed. She could not see where she was. "Where am I? Where is my Sipho?"

"Your Majesty?" pain laced his voice.

She saw a face come close to hers. A dark skinned face with dark curly hair. "Sipho! Is it you?" She reached to touch his face.

"It is Dane, Your Majesty. Your Protector?" He looked at her with concern and then muttered some words in the Ancient Language. Her eyesight returned.

 _The Rider._ She slapped him. "Do not waste your filthy magic on me. Use it to find my son"

She ignored the shock on his face and rose angrily from the bed. He had brought her in the tree house the Elves had given her. Hurried feet sounded and Elva run in, with Trianna and Lex behind her. She saw Dane's dragon outside, looking at her with concern.

"Where is Sipho? Is he not with you? I cannot find him." Nasuada looked at them with hope and desperation. _They must have seen where he had gone. Why was he not with them?_

The three figures paused. Their faces were pale. Their eyes were glistening with tears. They looked at her with grief.

Elva took a step towards her. "Nasuada, I am so sorry" her voice choked with tears. Elva, who had shared the pain of thousands. Who had never cried before. _Why is she crying now?_

Nasuada looked at the young woman uncomprehendingly. She saw that the hem of her lavender dress was red. Was that a decoration? To match the Queen's and the Prince's own outfit? Nasuada did not remember her doing that.

Elva saw her stare and tried to gather her dress. Nasuada realized the red part was wet.

"Is this blood? Elva! Are you hurt?" the girl looked at her with shock.

Nasuada felt a flare of anger inside her. "Trianna! Quickly! Heal her!" The magician stared at her, but did not move.

Elva put her hands over her mouth to hide her sobs.

"Are you in great pain, Elva?"

"It is not…my blood, Nasuada" she told her with gasping sounds.

She could not understand her words. "If not yours then who…?" she could not finish. An image came to her. An image of a head severed from a body. A boy wearing red.

She stumbled and steadied herself on a table. There was a mirror on top of it. She caught a glimpse of her reflection. But the image did not look like her. Blood covered her face, her neck, her hands. She had not noticed. Her hair was disheveled and wounds were visible where she herself had made them. She looked like the crazy person she had seen once in the streets of Aberon when she was younger.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Where is my son?" she asked them in a whisper.

"Your Majesty, you were there…" Lex said.

She closed her eyes. She did not want to remember what she had seen. _It was not real._ "Tell me the truth. What happened to him?"

They did not answer her. The stood looking at her with pity.

"Tell me" she shouted angrily at them. "I command you."

Elva lowered her hands from her face. In a steady voice she said "He is dead."

Nasuada shook her head. "No. No."

"There was an attack during the Celebration for the Hatching of the Eggs. We do not know who. They came and left too quickly"

Nasuada started crying again.

"They broke the eggs and… they killed all the newly hatched Dragons…and their Riders"

"I do not care about them" she shouted. "I only care about my son"

"Nasuada, you are in shock." Elva took another step in her direction. "Come sit down"

Nasuada touched her own face. As she removed her fingers, she saw blood coating them.

"Tell me…" she had no breath to finish

"They decapitated him, Nasuada. He… is gone" the Rider said carefully.

She looked at him.

And heavily collapsed on the floor. Her crown left her head and rolled on the floor.

They gathered above her, touching her. She did not care for them.

Her heart was bumping against her chest in a slow rhythm.

They lifted her and placed her on the bed. Trianna and Dane loomed above her.

Her breathing ceased and her heart stopped.

She saw only blackness.

As soon as Nasuada stopped breathing, Elva launched herself onto the bed. She quickly touched her mouth on the Queen's and gave her a breath. Trianna ripped open her dress and, placing a hand on her, started chanting in the Ancient Language.

Dane, was frozen in shock. He moved slightly backwards, looking at them work so methodically. As if they had done this many times.

They had.

Ever since Sipho's birth, Nasuada was never the same. She was plagued with episodes that made her heart and breathing stop. She tired more easily and was weaker than before. But they always healed her. Trianna had devised specific spells for her. Her spells pumped her heart and lungs, while healing her at the same time. If her mind was left without air for long, it would be damaged.

Sometimes, Elva wondered if Nasuada's episodes had indeed affected her. She had changed much after the War. Her fear and hate of magic had grown. And, she had a strong, almost unhealthy, attachment with Sipho. _But, now, that will change._

Nasuada's chest arched, and she gasped for air.

Elva felt relief flood her. _Healed again._

Trianna removed her hand and Nasuada fell in a deep sleep. It was better to let her sleep now, while her episode was so recent. It would be very dangerous if she had another so soon due to her grief.

Trianna stood, exhausted. She waivered and Dane put a hand on her arm to steady her. He led her to a chair in the sitting room.

Elva stood too. With careful movements she removed the Queen's dress. She soaked a towel in the bowl of water by the window and started cleaning her body from the blood.

 _Things will change now. I have to keep her strong._

She still did not understand what was happening. She had felt a looming pain so great during the ceremony, that she had fainted. When she awoke, the dragon eggs were broken and all new Riders dead. An attack, Lex had told her. Did not know who. They were there and they were gone. All the other participants had been running around, in panic. They did not understand either. Elva had solely focused on Nasuada and had followed her back to the tree house, her dress trenching through blood pooled on the grass. _We will soon learn the specifics of the attack._

She stroked her Queen's hair. _I will have Trianna wash them, once she gets her strength back._ Nasuada's face was peaceful in sleep. _She will be fine. She has to._ Elva needed Nasuada. She would never let harm come to her. The Queen held Elva in a position of power. Without her, she would be shunned as a freak or worse, become a slave to whomever followed her on the throne. And she would never allow that to happen.

She kneeled by the chest they had brought from Ilirea and searched for a nightgown to put on her. Elva could have one of the maids do this, but she did not like for them to see their Queen in this state. Nasuada's episodes had been kept a closely guarded secret between her, Trianna and Lex.

Dane entered the bedroom and without a glance at Elva, kneeled by Nasuada's bed, touching her, indifferent to her indecency. Elva rose, tense. The Rider had not known. She would have to persuade him to keep the secret as well.

She searched him with her gift.

She hid a smile.

She knew exactly how.

"Has this happened before, Lady Elva? I saw how quickly you all responded." He was still touching Nasuada. He was frowning.

"It has" she admitted.

"And do you know what is wrong with her Majesty?"

"We are not sure." She said carefully.

Dane nodded, deep in thought. He continued standing over the Queen, muttering in the Ancient Language now and then with his eyes closed. Elva stood motionless.

She glimpsed Lex in the doorway. He gave her a questioning look. She lightly touched his mind. _I have this under control. No need to worry about him, he will not betray us._ Her husband nodded and left.

Elva walked around the bed and climbed on Nasuada's other side. The Rider had his hand in the middle of her chest, between her breasts. He was concentrating. Elva held Nasuada's hand in both of hers.

"Dane?" she whispered. It was not difficult to fake her worry.

The Rider opened his eyes and looked at her with despair. He sighed.

"How many times has this happened?"

"Not many" she lied. "Can you prevent another attack?"

"Her Majesty suffers from a degeneration of the muscles of her heart. Trianna's spells helped to restart her heart, but could not fix her completely. No one can, I fear."

"As a Rider, there must be something you can do."

He shook his head. "Her heart is too weak, Elva. There will come a time, when it will simply cease its beating and never start again."

"Nasuada is still strong"

"For the time. I could not sense any lasting damage, but the more times this happens; the greater damage her Majesty's body will take. Maybe we should have one of the Elven healers have a look. Their skills are greater than mine and they may be able to locate any damage already inflicted."

He started to rise and Elva put a hand on his shoulder. She looked deep into his eyes and started explaining to him why that would be a very bad idea.


	15. Chapter 14- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle**

 **Please review :)**

 ****

 **Chapter 14**

"And, as she was one of the Dûrgrimst Ingeitum, I will make sure to follow the right burial rituals for our clan."

"May she lie in peace in Helzvog's embrace" Orik replied.

Eragon stood in front of the mirror connecting him with the Dwarf King. He had decorated it with the symbol of his clan, the hammer with the twelve stars around it, and had painted the frame a deep red. He had been proud of his craftsmanship once. Now, he could barely look at it. It filled his mind with the memories of the beautiful female Dwarf and the blood that had soaked the birthing room.

He had been preoccupied with the Celebration and had not noticed Hilda was in labor until it was too late. When he went to her, she and the baby were already dead. The first of his rider to die on Dragonmount. The room had been full of lamenting and tears of grief. He had found Ismira clutching her friend's dead body, refusing to let go and had been forced to put her to sleep to move her to her own rooms.

"Did she have any last words, Eragon? For me to tell her family?"

He almost chocked at that. His eyes stung and he blinked several times to clear them.

 _I should have been there to listen to them. I should have been there to…_

 _There was nothing you could have done, little one._ Saphira told him. She moved her head closer to him and he put a hand on her long neck for comfort. _Even with the Name, Eragon, there was nothing to be done. She was surrounded by experts both in magic and birthing. Do not blame yourself._

He sighed acknowledging the truth of her words.

"She… was not very coherent in her last moments." He wished there was something he could give the Rider's family. A last goodbye. A proclamation of love to her lover and father of her daughter.

"What did she say, Eragon?" Orik inquired, curious.

Eragon was surprised at Orik's insistent. He suddenly remembered that for the Dwarves, last words held great importance. Something about communicating with their gods.

"She…mumbled about her daughter. How she could not have her in Alagaesia, but came here, to Dragonmount and still _it_ followed her. She talked about _them_ and _him_ " the healers had relayed her words to him in shaking voices.

Orik was serious. He stood, holding his war hammer, and his brow was furrowed. "Go on" he told him.

"Well, she also said that children are born dead or not born at all. She must have been thinking about her own child."

"Maybe. What else?"

"Nothing much. Something about a curse?" Eragon sighed again. "I told you she was incoherent. She was fading Orik. The blood loss was too great, too sudden. And her heart rapidly weakened." A tear rolled down his cheek.

Orik was lost in thoughts. He mumbled something in the dwarven language that Eragon did not catch. He raised his eyes and carefully said: "She was not incoherent, Eragon. It was the Embrace of Twilight. A warning. A true sight. Her words were touched by the gods."

Eragon did not hide his doubt about that. He respected the beliefs of the Dwarves, but it was an insult to his late Rider to believe her words had been anything but a death rattle. "Orik…"

"No, hear me, Eragon." The King raised a hand to stop his protest. "There has been a… situation here in Alagaesia that a fear you have not been informed about. Hilda was investigating it while she was here. She got frightened about what she discovered and that was why she left for Dragonmount. I expected her to inform you of this, but she clearly did not. She must have been afraid to even voice it aloud, lest she brought bad luck at her baby. Even that, though, did not save her."

"What kind of situation?" Saphira had turned to look suspiciously at the Dwarf King in the mirror as well.

"With pregnancies. And mothers and their babes." Orik paused to gather his thoughts.

Eragon waited patiently for him to continue.

"Recently, our birth rates have dropped dramatically. We've had fewer children born during Galbatorix's reign, but that was attributed to fear and doubt about the future. We expected to have a boom after, actually. But the situation has worsened. A lot. You know how much difficulty Hvedra had to conceive."

"And you claimed that it was natural." Eragon was starting to get angry. Had Orik been lying to him?

"It is. To an extent. But things have been worse, especially in recent years. Women have a hard time conceiving and if they do, they have…complications in their pregnancies."

"If this problem is so extended, why have I heard nothing of it?" he stood clutching his fists in anger. If he had known, he could have saved his Rider.

"I have not been certain before, but now that you told me of Hilda's words, I am. There is some kind of…curse. I do not know how to describe it. That is what the people are calling it. Maybe that is why no Rider has reported this back to you. They too thought it as ridiculous."

"Maybe it is, Orik. What kind of curse could possibly be affecting the whole of your race? The energy to cast such a spell would be immense. I think you should reconsider."

Orik stroked his beard. It was longer than the last time they met, as if he had not the time to trim it, and was bare from the usual decorations he braided in it. Eragon gave his friend a searching look. He did seem more tired, with dark circles under his eyes and he did appear heavily concerned about this situation. _But, he allows superstitions to cloud his judgment._

He felt Saphira's agreement.

"It is not my race alone, Eragon. There are rumors that the humans are facing the same problems. Maybe even worse. Has Nasuada spoken of any of this with you?"

"Nasuada? No. Nor has any of her advisors that I usually converse with."

"You should ask her."

"I will… Once I have re- established our communications with Ellesmera. Have you heard about the Celebration? What happened?"

"No, the mirrors here all broke and we have not been able to fix them. My magicians are trying to communicate with the Elves to resolve this, but everything seemed to be in order there. Must have been a spell that went wrong? I thought you would know more."

"We have been trying to communicate with them as well for the last two days. We've had no luck yet. But, I do not think there is a reason to worry, we also think one of the spells must have gone wrong."

His Riders had been occupied with the news of Hilda's death. They were busy preparing for her funeral and trying to keep her dragon calm. Just this morning, some had started testing the communication routes between them and Due Weldenvarden. They had little success so far and no news. But Eragon did not worry too much.

"I will speak with Nasuada about this, Orik, as soon as I can." He said trying to reassure his foster brother.

Orik nodded. "Aye, you do that."

Eragon tried to think of a lighter subject to end their conversation.

 _Ask of his son again,_ said Saphira.

"What of…?"

"And Arya." Orik interrupted him.

"What of Arya?"

"Ask her as well, about the pregnancies. The Elves are the least fertile, of course, but they may have noticed something. And we should also talk with the Urgals, just in case."

Eragon tried to hide his annoyance. Orik did not want to let the subject go. "Yes" he reluctantly replied.

"Yes, yes. We should talk with all the races about this. It is too important. Hilda's words…"

Saphira let out a low growl. _Will he stop insulting her memory?_

Orik looked sharply at her. "And the Dragons… You've faced no problems with the Dragons, have you Eragon? Besides the one that died a few years ago? The one bonded to that Elf that later killed himself?"

Eragon felt a pit in his stomach. _The Dragons…_

He kept his face cool. "The Dragons are doing well" he told Orik, trying to reveal as little as possible.

Orik looked relieved. "That's good. I will start looking at it very carefully Eragon. I will have more news for you next time we talk." He bowed his head at them and hurriedly left the mirror.

Eragon ended the spell.

Saphira turned to look at him. Her eyes were filed with worry. _Eragon… We have great problems with the dragons as well. What if Orik is right?_

He did not know how to answer her.


	16. Chapter 15- Ismira

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle**

 **Please review :)**

 **Chapter 15**

Ismira was sitting on Itha and clutching a spike in front of her for support. They were waiting near Hilda's casket. The funeral procession was about to begin.

They were on the Main Grounds. The Riders had prepared a separate section deep inside the mountains for the Dwarves that were to be buried there. The entrance was just to their right. A straight tunnel, dug deep, so that they would be closer to their Gods.

She waivered.

 _Ismira, you should have eaten something._

 _I am not hungry._ She had not eaten for three days. Since, Hilda's death she felt everything blur around her. They had taken her away from her friend's body by putting her to sleep. When she woke, everyone looked stricken with grief, but they had all been relatively calm. She was beginning to doubt herself. Was is not real? What she had seen happening at Ellesmera? Why was no one talking about it?

She had not asked them. She had not talked with anyone other Itha actually. She has stayed in her room, lying on the bed, crying. She had left just this morning, to help prepare Hilda's body for the funeral. She knew her friend would have wanted her to be there.

The memories sent fresh tears to her eyes. She started crying again. The sound was echoed all around her. Dark figures, dressed mostly in black surrounded her. All grieving. Many were weeping openly just like her. They were all people she had grown up with. Her Brothers and Sisters and their Dragons. People she could trust and among whom she was safe. But she did not talk to them and they respected her distance. She had eyes only for her friend.

They had placed Hilda the Fair in a golden casket to match her Dragon's color and her golden hair. They had dressed her in a fashion she would have preferred. Her face they had painted to hide the paleness of death, her blue lips painted a deep red. Her face was still frozen though, in an expression of eternal pain. She wore a golden gown, more luxurious than any Queen could possess and an intricate necklace with precious gems of every color, depicting the sign of her clan, sat between her breasts. And in her cold embrace, they had placed a pure white shroud. The daughter she did not have the chance to hold in life. The child that would never grow to be a Rider like her mother.

An aching cry escaped Ismira. She hid her face with her hands and sobs rocked her body. Itha let a long moan in grief.

A drum sounded and they began.

They entered the tunnel. The walls were dimly lit by lanterns. Hilda's casket was in front of them. Propelled by magic, it seemed to float in the air. Vishkas, Hilda's Dragon, followed behind his Rider with dull eyes and drooping tail. All Riders were following on their Dragons' backs. Other residences of Dragonmount followed behind. Sniffing and crying was echoed all around. Incense was burning in braziers placed frequently on both sides on the wall. Hilda's golden casket cut through the smoke like an arrow.

They entered a vast cavern, deep in the mountains. They were standing on a wide platform overlooking a deep abyss. The bottom was not visible, deep below them, to the foot of the mountains. The ceiling was decorated with huge gemstones of every color, reflecting the light from numerous flameless lanterns. A winding path led around the cavern, going deeper and deeper, passing empty tombs. Hilda was the first Rider to die here on Dragonmount and the first Dwarf. She would be alone in her dark, cold tomb. Ismira shivered.

She had helped the Dwarves excavate this place, as had every Rider during their training. The final resting place was of vital importance to a Dwarf, and the Riders of all races had respected that, helping them create one that they felt was adequate. A Rider in training helped with every project here on Dragonmount, whether it was for all races, all only one. She had thought that this place would remain empty for a long time.

They stopped in front of the first tomb. Every tomb was recessed into the wall, behind a wide arch of stone. Hilda's was decorated with gold leaves.

Master Eragon dismounted and stood in front of her. He wore an outfit of deep black with the sign of the Ingeitum, stitched with silver thread, the only decoration on his back. He neared the casket and gave a last kiss on his Rider's brow. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He stood near Vishkas, a hand for comfort on his neck. Saphira followed, bowing her head and blowing warm air on the body.

The other Riders followed. Ismira felt out of her body, as her lips found skin cold as the stone that surrounded them. She closed her eyes and quickly gave her place to Itha.

When all the participants had given their last goodbye, the eight Dwarven Riders still on Dragonmount, made a circle around her and starting signing a mourning melody. Ismira started weeping again.

Through her tears she saw them moving the casket and sliding it in its final place. The melody ended and they lifted a heavy slab of stone and placed it on top of the tomb, sealing her friend forever. The Dwarves left through the arch and everyone else started walking towards the exit.

She stayed for a while longer, standing next to her coppery Dragon. Master Eragon stood to her right in a similar pose. None of them spoke.

Soon, the great cavern was empty. Vishkas had lowered his face to the ground, his mourning noises echoing all around them.

Ismira felt a sudden warmth spreading through Itha. Magic. He body begun glowing and she arched her neck, touching the slab of stone. It rippled and melted, the stone turning into sparkling diamond flecked with gold. When Itha lifted her head, Hilda's face was visible underneath.

Master Eragon carefully examined her work with great sadness. He proclaimed: "Your abilities grow more impressive each year, Itha. Saphira made the same change on my father's tomb, but your work is even more impressive." Saphira seemed to agree, touching her snout with Itha's.

"You must be very proud to have her as your Dragon, Ismira"

"I am Master" she formally answered him.

"I feel great loss at Hilda's passing. I know, you will feel worse, as she was a close friend. But, never forget, Ismira, that you have many friends here on Dragonmount, ready to support you."

She nodded.

Eragon sighed, looking around. "The Dwarves prefer burring their dead deep in the ground, but I have always found this to be a cold place."

Ismira agreed, she would have preferred a sunny hill for her friend. "This was her wish, Master"

"Yes, this was her wish. I wish we do not have to repeat a funeral for a hundred years. More." His thoughts seemed to be turned towards something specific.

 _Ellesmera,_ Ismira realized. Now that the funeral was over, they would have to deal with what happened there.

"The Riders that… passed during the Celebration? Will they be buried in Alagaesia?" she carefully asked.

Eragon turned to study her with a furrowed brow. "Which Celebration?"

She looked at him uncomprehending. "Three days ago…?"

Eragon's eyes widened. "What do you mean Ismira?"

She felt a lump rise in her throat. _How can he not know?_

"Did you see something Ismira?" Eragon came to stand right in front of her. He grabbed her by her arms, a panicked look in his face. Saphira held a wild expression as well. "The mirrors broke just as Arya was about to introduce the new Riders. We saw nothing amiss, we believe a spell went wrong." He seemed to pleading her for good news.

She shook her head. _Our mirror must have broken last, if the others did not see._

"You saw a Rider being attacked?"

She nodded, dazed. She could not tell him. She could not voice what she had seen.

"Who? Who Ismira?" he violently shook her. "Was it Arya?"

"I am not sure. I saw…so much…so much blood." She closed her eyes against the memories that overwhelmed her.

She felt him grab her head. "Show me, Ismira. Show me what you saw."

Ismira opened her eyes. Eragon's face was close to hers. He was pale as death and his hands were shaking.

"Show me, niece."

She reluctantly opened her mind to his and shared her memories.

 **Please review ;)**


	17. Chapter 16- Arya

**Discalimer: I do not own the Inhertance Cycle**

 **Please review :)**

 **A/N: This chapter will contain smut towards the end ;)**

 **Chapter 16**

The golden rays of the midday sun reflected upon the shards of the mirrors on the ground. Arya was careful to step around them, so as not to cut her feet. Four days had passed since the Celebration. Or the Blood Feast as many were now calling it.

What had happened here was unspeakable. Arya went to stand again at the place she was standing when the attack begun. She remembered a stabbing pain in her mind. Like an icy dagger piercing her skull. She was told all other magic users had felt the same. What it was and where it came from they did not know. Only the few that were not able to touch the flow of magic were left unaffected. High Queen Nasuada chief among them.

She looked to her right, were the new Riders and Dragons had been standing. And in front of her where the Guardians had stood, with the four eggs among them.

In a matter of seconds, it seemed, while most warriors were incapacitated, they had all been killed. Butchered by an unknown foe. Dark figures, fast as Elves and Riders, there and gone.

They did not know who they were. Or why they had done this. No trace was left. The Elves had searched far and wide, the whole of their beloved forest. Nothing. They examined the minds of all their guests. Still nothing. Chaos had followed the attack. Still, with all their skills, they should have been able to find at least one clue. But they had not. Now, they returned here, hoping to find something.

Their attack seemed to have a sort of symbolism in the way they killed. They had killed all the new Riders by decapitating them. All the eggs were shattered with a dagger from the top, the four Guardians that were entrusted with the care of the eggs were killed with a dagger through the throat. No shield was able to protect them. Their Dragons had gone mad from grief. Firnen and a few other Dragons and Riders attending the Celebration were with them even now, trying to keep them calm. Still, two Dragons had flown away, despite Arya's efforts to stop them, intent on finder the killers and making them suffer. They were currently making their way North, leaving the cold bodies of their Riders behind. And the hatchlings…

Arya shuddered at the memory. Of the hatchlings, the attackers had left only their heads. Nailed on the Menoa Tree by their tongues. They had been unable to locate the rest of the bodies.

She tried to keep her thoughts on the task at hand.

The mirrors. _Why had they broken all the mirrors?_ The connection they had with Dragonmount was cut. They were currently trying to re-establish it. It would take some time, since both Ellesmera and Dragonmount were protected with various spells to keep unwanted intruders out.

She neared a cluster of Elves working on a medium sized mirror, Däthedr, her chief advisor among them. They bowed to her.

"We are working hard, my Queen. A few more hours and we shall be ready. It takes a lot of energy. The work is delicate. And most are tired." Däthedr answered her questioning look.

She nodded, understanding. She could have used the Name to pierce the wards, but she was too tired as well.

"When the mirror is ready, shall we try to make a connection with Dragonmount first, your Majesty?" Däthedr asked her. "Or another leader in Alagaesia?"

"Dragonmount" she quickly told him. "We must inform Eragon of this threat immediately." The personal mirror she had in her study was not working either, even though it had not broken. As for the other leaders, they would be informed soon, right after she had talked with the leader of the Dragon riders. Many might know already. Either through Riders contacting and warning each other or through the guests that had attended the Celebration and fled soon after.

Däthedr bowed his head at her and she left them to their work.

She made her way back to her Tree House, keeping her mind closed from Firnen, leaving him to his tedious work. He mourned too, for the loss of his offspring. The young Tirrom bonded with Nasuada's only son, Sipho.

She almost grimaced at the memory of the High Queen of the Varden. She had left Ellesmera the day after the attack. Arya felt she had done a poor job in consoling her. Despite their different opinions on the control their governments should have over magicians, Arya was still fond of Nasuada. She fondly remembered the time they had spent together during the War and their joint efforts to lift their kingdoms out of the ashes of Galbatorix. They had maintained a strong sense of peace and collaboration. It was true that Nasuada's distrust of magic had deepened after the birth of her son, twelve years ago, but still, Arya respected her. She had led her Empire to great glory. And the reports reaching Ellesmera, spoke of a prosperous nation, proud in their Queen.

The woman she had seen three days ago was nothing like the fierce leader she knew. Nothing like the proud woman she was at the Celebration. Or the defiant mother who had demanded of her to give back her son and heir.

Nasuada had come to her, barely able to stand, Elva and Trianna holding her up. She had announced to Arya in a voice barely louder than a whisper, her breath catching and tears in her eyes, that she would be leaving Ellesmera to return to Ilirea. She said that she would gladly aid in finding and punishing the attackers. If Arya asked for help, she was willing to give it to her. The only thing she asked for was for the Elven Queen and Rider to give her the body of her son, so that she would have the chance to honor him with a burial.

At the time, chaos was reigning in Ellesmera. Arya had not the time to argue with Nasuada that her son's place was with the rest of the Riders. She had agreed to her humble request, trying to give her words of comfort but failing. One of Arya's close councilors, Ruaven, had let the Varden Queen away.

It was only now, three days later, that Arya had learnt that Nasuada had taken only the dismembered body of her son. What was left of his dragon's body she had refused. Throwing the box, they had laid it in, on the grass. The Elves had been too dazed to react and had let her go.

Arya did not mean to confront Nasuada about this. It was with a mother's pain she had acted, not a ruler's cool logic. It had not been an attempt to insult them. They had burned the remains of the hatchlings yesterday, as was the Dragon's custom. Arya had kept the ashes of Tirrom. _When the boy is buried I will visit the grave and scatter the ashes on top of it._

Lost in thoughts as she was, she did not notice Ruvaen, until he was right in front of her. The silver haired Elf elegantly stopped and gave her a deep bow. He was one of her most trusted advisors, as he had been to her mother. He was older than Islanzadi was and when the Elves had marched to War he was the one left to run the daily affairs of Ellesmera in her mother's place.

Arya had left him in her study in case someone managed to contact her mirror. _He would not be here without news!_

"The Red Rider, Murtagh, has established contact my Queen" he announced without delay.

She hurried back to the Tree House, Ruvaen keeping up at her side. She did not mind him being there for this conversation. Another, she might have turned away, but he had her ultimate trust in keeping her secrets safe.

She had established a connection with Murtagh in one of his rare visits. He carried a small mirror that allowed to him to contact her in need.

As she run up the stairs towards her study she gathered her thoughts on what to say to Murtagh. This would not be an easy conversation. She was secretly glad, though, that it was Murtagh she would have to talk to. _He will take the news better than Eragon._ She felt slightly guilty at the thought, but his time under Galbatorix had hardened Murtagh, whereas Eragon was still soft and naïve at times, even after sharing the memories of the Eldunari.

She run in front of her mirror and saw Murtagh and Thorn solemnly waiting for her.

Murtagh opened his mouth but Arya waived away the ceremonial greeting. "Murtagh, Thorn, I am glad you were able to contact me. I hope no ill has befallen you." She could hear the gurgling of water coming from their side.

"We are well, Arya. But, Eragon contacted me a few hours ago, claiming disaster had struck during the Celebration."

She wasted no time and explained to him what had happened. As she spoke, his initial shock faded into anger and sadness. She had expected this reaction . She felt a great release in talking with him. At least he could understand.

They stood silent for a while. Ruvaen moved to the side and poured himself a drink. Her body almost trembled as she tried to stop herself from grabbing the bottle of faelnirv he was holding and downing it with one go.

 _I really need a drink._

She looked away and her eyes fell on Faolin's fairth. A visible shudder rocked her.

She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.

There was a moment during the attack, a split second, that she thought she saw Faolin's face under a figure's cloak. The sight had left her frozen and she had not reacted in time. _I am losing it. I see his face everywhere. I should smash that stone slab into a thousand pieces._

A hand lightly touched her shoulder. "My Queen, are you feeling ill?" Ruvaen's concerned voice reached her.

She opened her eyes. Both Murtagh and Ruvaen were waiting for an answer. She shook herself. "I am fine, just weary."

Murtagh nodded. "I understand. I should not keep you long. I need to rest too, the spells I used to make contact sapped a lot of energy."

"We added some new wards, right after the attack. I am surprised you were able to reach us at all."

He gave her a measured glance and she understood. He had used the Name. With Ruvaen there, however he would not speak of this.

"I will speak with Eragon and inform him." He sighed, maintaining the connection with Arya was visibly tiring him. "And then we will head straight to Ellesmera. We have encountered some strong winds that have slowed us down, but I expect we shall reach Ellesmera in about two weeks."

"Safe travels, Murtagh, Thorn" she nodded to them and cut off their connection.

She sighed and sat on the high backed chair behind her desk. Ruvaen offered her a drink of faelnirv. She drunk deep and fast, emptying the crystal glass with a single gulp. He filled it again. And again. On the fourth glass she sat back and closed her eyes, contemplating.

 _I still have to talk with all the other leaders. There is no avoiding the questions now. I will have to also deal with the bodies. And I still do not know who it was that attacked us. Because, what she had seen was crazy. I am losing it completely? Faolin! It could never have been him._

She made an annoyed sound deep in her throat and started drumming the desk with her fingers.

A hand caressed her neck.

Her fingers stilled. She opened her eyes.

Ruvaen was standing above her, perched on the desk. He brought his face closer and kissed her neck. She gave him access and felt his hot breath against her skin. He went lower, kneeling in front of her chair. Cupping one of her breasts and tenderly caressing that, while opening her shirt to taste the rest of her body.

She allowed this too. He never did anything she did not allow him to. After what had happened in Gilead no one had touched her that way again. Especially no human. No one but Firnen knew of the way a puny human had defiled her. She had not even told Eragon.

She still felt fear and disgust at times, when she thought of sharing a bed with the blue Rider. He was not like that human soldier, but he had been a human once. Now he looked like an Elf. That was the face she would see if she chose to take that step. But, the memories of his youthful face as it had been, still plagued her.

She hated herself for the dreams she had. The ones where she laid in bed with the leader of the Dragon riders. Of him pleasing her. Of her pleasing him. She was glad each time she woke from such a dream, that they were thousands of miles apart. But even now, she ached for the feel of his body against hers. In her more treacherous thoughts, she regretted not taking the chance while he was still in Alagaesia. He had been so eager, but the wounds on her soul had been too raw then. Still were.

Ruvaen went lower still, his mouth kissing her navel, his fingers touching the top of her trousers. She did not let him take those off. "Maybe not today" she weakly said. "There is much work still to be done."

"Let me take away your stress, my Queen. So that you can do your job better." He had done so a few times, since she had become Queen of the Elves. He claimed it was a great honor. He also claimed that he had performed the same service to her mother. What he did had no emotional attachment, like other races would feel.

She craved this release now, but hesitated. She did have a lot of work to do. Her eyes fell on Faolin's fairth once more. He had seemed so real. _If only you were here. The things we would be doing together._

Her breathing quickened.

She looked in Ruvaen's brown eyes. They were filled with lust and anticipation.

She removed her trousers and gave him access.

"Go on" she commanded Ruvaen, keeping her stare on the fairth.

He gave her a secret smile and kissed her.

Her back arched on the chair. His tongue sent ripples of fire inside her. She clutched the arms of her chair, while he deepened his kiss. He was very skilful.

She never allowed him to enter her though. That was still something she was not prepared for.

He suddenly grabbed her back and brought her closer to him. She wound her legs around him, over his shoulders, clutching his silver hair. Hair so different from Eragon's. And Faolin's.

He continued his rhythmic work. Maybe she was not the only one needing an escape from the horrors she had witnessed.

His fingers dug deep in her hips. His strong arms lifted her off the chair.

And she let out a loud moan that, if not for the spells she had in place to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on her, would have echoed across Du Weldenvarden.


	18. Interlude I

**Interlude I**

His eyes jolted open to a bleeding sky. The sun was low in the west, bathing the dry grass around him with golden light. He was lying against the trunk of a great oak.

It was sunrise last time he was awake and now it was sunset. Had he slept all through the day? Or was it many days that had passed?

Time was strange lately. When once it was a river, now it was a lake. He floated in many directions, without guidance.

He searched for his waterskin and found it almost empty. He drank the last drops and let it drop back to the ground. His stomach tightened. When was the last time he had eaten? That depended on how much time had passed. Was it two? No three days. Yes, three days before the last time he went to sleep, he had eaten those berries.

What a miserable meal that had been. A pale pink, tasteless to his senses. Water had more flavor. But then, everything was tasteless here. Dull.

He stayed there for a while, staring at the darkening sky. Clouds were gathering in the North. A storm brewing. _Good_. _I won't even have to move and my waterskin will be full._ The thought pleased him.

He did not want to move. He rather liked this tree. A great lone guardian among these wild fields. This part of the world had few trees and those few around him where thin and ugly to his eyes. But this one. Oh, this was a Lord among trees. A lone Lord, fallen from grace perhaps, but still different from the others.

It reminded him bit of himself. Alone. Detached.

 _I could stay here. Until my bones turn to dust._ He laughed aloud at that. His voice echoed on the plains, scaring a few birds. They fluttered out of the tall grass, abandoning their search for food and flew away. The sight brought tears to his eyes. How he wished he could fly away like them. How he wished for freedom.

Unwillingly, his left hand went to the dagger at his side. He gripped it tightly. His hand shook. He glared at it. It was still sharp after all those years. But the great white gem on its hilt was dull and lifeless.

He jerked back his head and howled in madness. Thunder answered him.

He laughed again. He did not care. There was no one around to see. No one to hear. No one to care. This part of the world was empty. No one else was here but him. And the demons in his mind. They were never too far away.

He laughed again and sheathed the dagger at his waist. _Not yet my friend._

He stood. Hunger made him waiver, but he ignored his discomfort. He grasped a wide branch and pulled himself up. He balanced on top of it and waited for the storm.

The wind came first. Howling, blowing his tattered clothes around him. He opened his arms to welcome it. It blew harder, trying to take him down. He stood strong. The wind had been his once.

Then came the thunder and the lightning. Falling all around him. It did not touch him. The hairs on his body stood upright. Each flash of lighting bathed him with light, filling him. A tree nearby, one of the younger ones, caught fire.

He started crying. His cheeks were wet before the wall of rain hit him. He extended himself to his toes and did not fall.

This he had done many times; this storm was like a sweet summer rain to him. When he was younger he used to do it with his cousins. He was the best among them, even standing on the trees that dotted the high cliffs in the middle of winter. The threat of the drop into the freezing waters hundreds of feet below had made it even more enjoyable.

He sobbed harder as the storm raged around him. He howled like a wolf without a pack. He screamed like the madman that his was.

A shard of ice hit his leg. Hail.

He took a deep breath and looked all around him. To the deep roots of the tree and the vast plains, rapidly filling with ice. To the tree that had caught fire but was still swaying on the wind. To the rivers of water pooling on the ground, reflecting both the darkness of the night and the light of the storm.

The light!

Another chunk of hail hit his cheek, drawing blood. He felt the sting of the wind and the rain against his wound. He lightly touched it, and looked at his bloody fingers. He closed his eyes and touched his lips, the iron taste filling his mouth. Life. That's what this is. Life.

He stood on the branch as the wind tried to uproot this giant. But it was failing. The other branches were groaning all around him. The wind howled in his ears and rivers of rain gurgled past him.

Like the blood of the earth.

Like blood sipping from a wound.

A branch broke and fell on the ground with a thud.

Like the thud of a head falling from its owner.

The vision was suddenly upon him. The trees. The lights. The blood. The screams.

And the dark figures. Some with crazy grins, others with dull eyes. And few with concentration on their faces. With precise, calculated movements. Expressionless and yet with a twisted satisfaction as they butchered. Riders and dragons.

And a Dwarf woman on a bed of blood, sighing her final breath.

It was there and it was gone, but it was enough.

He fell from the branch and crashed on the ground, his left eye narrowly missing a jagged rock.

He felt pain flare in his body and his weakness was suddenly heavy on him.

The storm was starting to slow.

He heaved himself up. He had no time to waste. This was what he was waiting for. His duty. He had to tell them. His message. He had to. This time he would make them listen. Make them understand.

He gave a final glance at this Lord of Trees. He bowed his head.

"I hope we never meet again" he told it in his mother language and started his long journey west.


	19. Interlude II

**Interlude II**

"Halt" Bruno commanded and raised his lantern to illuminate the stone walkway. The torches on either side of the half opened gate had gone out.

The clocked figure stopped, crouched near the edge of the water. He approached slowly. _A woman_ , he realized.

"Ann?" he asked her.

She turned her head. The lantern illuminated her bright green eyes. A lock of her brown hair hid the scar on her left cheek. She looked at him steadily, but he saw her grip the bundle she was carrying so hard, her knuckles turned white.

He looked around. The two other guards were far away and the heavy fog hid them from sight. Only the faint glow of their own lanterns were visible. He did not mind if his Father saw them, but he preferred Aksel did not find them. He would show little mercy to those disobeying the command of High Queen Nasuada.

He hurried to Ann's side. "What are you doing here?" he whispered to her and grabbed her by the arm.

"I just wanted to gather some redweed. Mother needs it." Her face had hardened and she tried to break free from his grasp.

He tightened his grip. "Is you Mother ill?" Redweed had a calming effect for those suffering with fever. His own mother had forced him to chew on it when he was younger. Every child in Kuasta was forced to go through the ordeal at some point. He could still taste the bitter taste on his tongue.

"She is… unwell. I have to make a redweed tea for her."

"Is she so ill that you could not wait until morning?"

"I.." she frowned. "I gathered some yesterday, but it did not work. It needs to be gathered at night."

He looked at her suspiciously. He did not know if her words were true, but it seemed to him too great a risk. A bit of redweed that she could have borrowed from a neighbor was not worth a trip to the city's prison for disobeying curfew.

"How would you even find it in this fog?"

She lowered her eyes. "I would have found a way" she whispered.

Bruno tensed. He glanced at the sickle shaped scar on her cheek. A scar that marked her as a magic user that had once tried to evade the Wandering Path. He remembered the incident. When she had started using magic at the age of sixteen, Ann had shown great talent in healing. But, when they had come to make her swear the oaths the Queen demanded of all magic users, Ann had refused. She had claimed that her talent was needed by many and she would not hesitate to use it on those in need, just because she had not acquired permission.

Four months in a cell had changed her mind. Bruno had just begun his training as a guard then, and he was not allowed access to the prison. He had heard rumors though. The other guards said she was tortured. She had been strong willed at first, but had broken after a while.

She had sworn in the Ancient Language. Her family was wealthy. Her father had many ships and their business was booming. It was said that he made a deal with Lord Alfred, the ruler of Kuasta, and she was freed. Otherwise she might had stayed in that dark cell for a year or more. Queen Nasuada was clear when ot came to magicians. All were monitored. No exceptions. No mercy. The Wandering Path gave her the scar as a reminder and she became part of their order, her movements always monitored.

He felt cold sweat run down his back. _If the Wandering Path is watching us…_

He stood and turned to drag her back to the city walls. He did not even want to consider how she had passed the patrols and had opened the gate to reach the sea.

"Bruno" she pleaded.

He stopped and looked at her. She laid a hand on his chest. He was wearing armor, but felt as if he could sense the softness of her hand.

He was two years older than her. His father was captain of the city guard and had strong ties of friendship with her father. They had been promised to one another. But the engagement was broken due to her imprisonment. Bruno had chosen to follow his father's career and a wife with the sickle mark was not a fit match for him.

So, another wife was chosen for him. Millie was not as beautiful as Ann, her family not as wealthy. She did not make him feel the same way he had felt for Ann. Still did sometimes, when he saw her around town. How he could lose himself in the depths of her moss green eyes.

She looked at him now, with tears threatening to fall. "Please Bruno, let me do this" he voice was shaking. Her body was warm against him. "My mother… She is all I have left."

She had not married in the seven years that had passed. Everyone feared a magician. But, a rebellious one was even worse. Her father had tried every bachelor in the city without luck. Her brother had even gone to Tierm to look there. He had also failed. And now…

Now some people blamed her for the bad luck that had fallen on her family. This summer they had been plagued with storms. Kuasta relied on fishing to keep her people fed, but this year not a single catch was brought back whole. Ann's father had lost most of his ships. He went out on a voyage himself, along with his son, claiming that he would be the one to turn their luck around. The ship had sunk, taking him and his son with it.

Now Ann and her mother were alone. No one wanted to do business with a cursed family. All the citizens of Kuasta would face a harsh winter. Aid from the Queen had yet to arrive. And Bruno feared Ann would be among the first to starve.

He could already see that she was thinner that last time he had seen her.

He looked around again. No one was near. "Hurry" he told her and let go of her arm.

She softy run to the edge of the water and kneeled. She got a dagger out of her pouch and started searching with her hands. He thought he could hear her softly speaking and tried to ignore it.

He stared at her as she worked. The shape of her hips, her elegant hands. He felt his face grow hot. He tried to think of his wife instead. Millie was not at her most beautiful these days, it was true. She was pregnant and suffered from severe morning sickness. Her face was green and her lips pale most of the time now. Her mother was staying with them. Millie was still in her first trimester and Bruno almost groaned at the thought of his mother in law staying in their house until the baby is born. _If it was born healthy._

The lack of food was not the only thing that worried him. Many women had faced problems in birth. Some whispered that Galbatorix had left a curse. _Foolishness and superstition. As if we need more of that in this city._

He turned to resume his watch and glimpsed a lantern coming closer. "Guard" he hissed at Ann. She froze and looked at him in fear.

He did not stop to think. "Stay still and quiet. Whoever it is, I will not let them come close"

She gave him a thankful smile that made his heart skip a beat and returned to her work.

He neared the approaching guard.

 _Aksel._ He almost cursed, as the guard came into view. He was a tall, bald man with a hard face. Nothing mattered to Aksel but the will of the Queen. Despite the night chill, he had removed the lower part of his sleeves, proudly showing his tattoos that marked him as a Nightowl, a member of Nasuada's fanatics.

After the death of Galbatorix, she had acquired many enemies. And many followers. They saw her as a liberator. A hero. A god almost. Whatever law she passed they saw as an illumination. Her fight against magic was especially venerated. Their actions were fanatic and often reached dangerous levels. But the Queen had done nothing to deter them. It seemed they helped her cause, since they kept an eye out for magicians. Some said they did more than half the work for the Wandering Path.

If Aksel found Ann, he would not be gentle. Bruno had seen him and others of his order glare at her while fingering their swords. He feared Aksel might decide to open her throat rather than seek the judgement of a court. And Bruno did not wish to be forced to make a decision.

"Bruno. What is wrong? I watched the light of your lantern stop. Did you see something?" Aksel demanded of him. He was older than Bruno and outranked him, as he often liked to boast.

"I can hardly see anything in this cursed fog. I stopped, trying to pierce it, but still saw nothing."

"What prompted this? Did you hear something?" Aksel made as if to go toward Ann and Bruno shifted his stance so that he was slightly in his way.

"Nothing but waves. I hoped for a glimpse of a whale. They sometimes venture in these waters at night during the early Fall. And Gods know they city needs them."

Aksel looked at him sharply. Bruno could not help but notice the fact that he was obviously very well fed. Lord Alfred gave limited rations of food to the citizens and had enforced this curfew to prevent unrest. And all those that had gone to the sea at night, claiming the catch would be better than daylight's. A dozen people had drowned already, prompting the Lord to action.

The Nightowls did not seem to suffer though. Bruno wandered if they got double portions for their services.

"The city will fare well. Our Queen is wise. If the people are loyal, they have nothing to fear."

Bruno kept his face blank as he nodded.

Aksel seemed dissatisfied with his response. He angrily opened his mouth.

"Patrolling is not the time for chatter" a stern voice sounded behind him.

Bruno saw his father nearing them. He walked proudly, although not young anymore. "Have you forgotten what happened in Ellesmera? The Blood Feast? We have no time to relax. We need to be vigilant for these slippery foes. Who says they will not strike here next?"

Aksel gave him a measured glance. "These killers focused on Riders. And no Riders are currently stationed here. "

"Aksel, you will patrol both mine and your portions of the walkway for the rest of the night. I will be watching you"

Aksel gritted his teeth, but gave no answer. He saluted and hurried to obey. Bruno's father waited until he was out of earshot before saying: "And why are you not patrolling, son?"

"Aksel wished to chat."

His father gave him a glare and Bruno tried not to shrivel under it. His father was even more tense lately. "Are you well, father?" he dared ask.

"I am fine" he barked at him. "I will go and watch from the top of the walls" he left without a backwards glance.

Bruno stood to look at his retreating figure. He contemplated going after him, but hesitated. His father would not look kindly at him abandoning his duties and Bruno did not wish to face the whip.

He did worry though; his father had gotten ill two months ago. Collapsed while on duty. Bruno had feared he would not make it, but Lord Alfred's head healer had come to him. His father had gotten better; he was even able to resume his duties. But he had been harder since. Angrier, more stern. And more favorable to the Nightowls. Bruno constantly glanced at his wrists, fearing he would get the tattoos any day now.

A soft sound came from behind. Bruno abruptly turned to find Ann, making her way across the walkway, keeping close to the wall. He hurried and caught her near the gate.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you." She curtsied to him.

The gesture made him sad. She was of the same station as him. A Lady of her own and now, head of her House. Recent events had made her more submissive. _Where was the girl with the free spirit? Would she grovel at any Guard that showed her a bit of pity?_ He tried not be angry at her. _She did whatever she could to survive._

"Be careful" he told her. "Turn right at the well. When you reach the bakery, hide in the alley on its left and wait for ten minutes until a patrol passes you. Then ran back home."

She looked surprised, but nodded.

 _Why am I helping her?_ He wondered.

For a moment they stood looking at each other. He felt warmth spread in his body as he thought of her full lips. How easy it would be to take her to the guard room. He could use his break as an excuse.

The thought of his father on the walls stopped him. _He could be watching us right now!_

He stepped back, thoughts of his wife filling his mind. He would not dishonor her like that. Ann's cheeks had turned red. She quickly turned and fled.

Bruno slowly shut the gate and returned to his own duties. As he walked though, his feet faltered. _Father passed through the gate. He saw it was open! Did he suspect?_

He glanced at the wall, but the fog was too thick and he could see nothing.

 **Please review ;)**


	20. Chapter 17- Eragon

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Please review :)**

 **Chapter 17**

The Riders on Dragonmount could choose whichever type of accommodation they wanted. They could make their own house anywhere in the mountain range. They could move to the town of Eaglegate. They could even live in the surrounding wilderness.

But most had chosen to live in the Rider's Residence. A vast network of rooms and halls, constantly being expanded in the eastern part of the mountain range. A separate city almost. Among themselves they called it The Haven.

It had proven to be more convenient – and more enjoyable- for the Riders and their Dragons to live in close contact with their Brothers and Sisters once they graduated. The fact that the city was situated on a mountain made it possible for Riders of all races to find accommodations to their liking. A deep cave, a tree house, a hut on a clearing.

The Haven held more than sleeping quarters though. Training rooms. Food Halls. Conference Halls. A room filled with mirrors connecting the Riders on Dragonmount with others in Alagaesia. Meditation rooms.

Much treasure was also housed here. Many magical artifacts, crafted from Riders. Secret workshops. Libraries full of books, best kept hidden. The most dangerous and important ones were help on Eragon's private rooms, but still, access to the Haven was limited mostly to Riders. Few of the rest of Dragonmount's residents were ever granted access. And never without Eragon's knowledge of it.

Which was why the Rider's used the Haven for their most important meetings. Across the Main Grounds, in the Public Gardens, they also conferred about important matters. But there, anyone could join in the conversation. Rider, Dragon, non- Rider or student. This however, was a conversation they needed to have alone.

"Murtagh has contacted me. He said the winds they have encountered during their journey to Alagaesia were unusually strong. Unnatural for this time of the year. Murtagh and Thorn are seasoned travelers. You all know they have explored much of the world. Still they have been delayed for more than a week and expect to arrive in the eastern part of Du Weldenvarden tomorrow." Eragon said to the group of Riders and Dragons situated before him.

They held this meeting in the Sunny Garden. A mocking name if ever there was one. The Sunny Garden was actually a cave under the Haven, were no sunlight ever reached. It was created by Eragon and his Riders in the first years they came here. They had shaped this cave with a wide opening to accommodate Dragons and had formed the floor amphitheatrically in an incline with a circle platform on the bottom.

Eragon was standing on the podium, speaking to Riders and Dragons sitting around him. The incline made it easy for all to clearly see and hear him and could accommodate the growing population of Dragonriders. The floor was planted with moss that they kept growing with magic and the cave was illuminated with numerous flameless lanterns and balls of light the present Riders were currently maintaining high on the ceiling.

Twenty seven pairs were in this meeting. All of them grim faced and tense. Almost three weeks had passed since the Celebration, or Blood Feast as he was informed it was now called in Alagaesia.

The light above Yara's head started pulsing, signaling her wish to speak. "Have they encountered any trace of those murderers, Shadeslayer?" her words were angry. Her face tenser than usual.

"No, nothing. They…"

"And what of Rider Arya?" Yara was crouched with one hand on her brown Dragon on her left side.

Saphira flicked her tail. _Now is not the time for Elven politics,_ she angrily commented to Eragon.

"Has she found anything?" Yara's voice begun to rise. The other Riders shifted uneasily. Eragon noted the other Elves were standing impossibly still.

"The Elves have found no trace of the killers. We still know nothing of their identity or their intentions." Eragon carefully answered. Yara's face paled in anger. Before she lost her temper, Eragon continued. "Neither have the other races. As you all very well know." He pointedly looked at Yara. She raised her chin, but remained silent.

"As I was saying, Murtagh and Thorn will arrive in Du Weldenvarden tomorrow. If all goes well, they will immediately assist in the search."

"How will they be able to find anything, if all of the Elven race has failed?" Grirth, an Urgal Rider raised his voice. His comment got many glares from the Elven Riders.

"It might not, but extra help is always useful." Eragon kept his concerns for himself. He had spent many troubled nights pondering over the same doubts. _Who are they? What do they want? Why? Why? Why?_

"Murtagh is also a Rider, Grirth. He will assist in ways others cannot." Kara said. She was sitting atop her blue dragon, Maior. Her face was tense and her eyes held great sadness. She had not removed the lines that marked her age before being bonded nor had she forgone the clothes of her race. Even when Eragon had trained her for fighting she had insisted on wearing a dress. The thought almost made him smile. Keya was as crafty as she was kind of heart. Almost a maternal figure to the rest of the Riders. Even Elves showed her much respect.

She turned to Eragon. "What of our siblings that perished, Master?" the name sent a stab of pain and guilt through his gut. He forced himself not to lower his eyes, but to face her distressed gaze. "What news of their Partners?"

"No change" an almost audible sigh passed through his Riders. Many of the Dragons let out mournful noises.

"Vishkas also grows restless, Master." Otkel sighed. The Dwarf rung his hands, appearing reluctant to continue.

So much had happened in so little time. In an instant the peace they had been enjoying for seventeen years had collapsed. The fact that they had no knowledge of the Blood Feast for days weighed heavily on Eragon. Ismira had been the only one to see and the experience alone had deeply scarred her. She would not speak aloud about what had happened to anyone. Eragon had learnt only by looking into her mind and the memory brought bile to his mouth. The other Riders had plagued her with questions, constantly interrogating her, until she snapped at them and told them she had not been the only witness. She prompted them to ask Hilda for more details and had shut herself in her rooms with only Itha for company.

The death of the Dwarf Rider was still an open wound. Many Riders harbored much guilt in failing to keep her and her daughter alive. Eragon had not shared what Orik had told him with anyone, but he thought whispers were starting to spread. As their connection with Alagaesia had been re-established, he heard more and more rumors of childbirth problems. Or maybe he was just paying more attention.

"Vishkas…" Otkel hesitated. He darted his eyes left and right. Eragon waited. He knew what the Dwarf would say. "Master, forgive me, but he was very insistent. He repeats his request. He wishes to leave Dragonmount and return to Alagaesia to hunt for the killers."

"Why did he not come here, to make his request before me?"

"He refused to leave his Rider's tomb"

"And yet he would leave for Alagaesia?"

"He is not well, Master." Otkel sadly shook his head. "He is grieving, but also angry. He stays down there all the time, yet he growls about hunting for Hilda's murderer."

"I have gone to speak with him many times." Kaya told him. Tears were gleaming in her eyes. "He refuses to see reason. He acknowledges that we did all we could to save them, but he insists the cause of death was not natural."

Eragon nodded. "I will speak with him again. Tonight." The truth was, he was certain the dragon would not listen to him either. He feared that he would one day simply decide to leave for Alagaesia on his own, disobeying Eragon's orders. And Eragon did not wish to be forced to hunt for him and bring him back.

For the prosperity of all races, the journeys of Riders back home were heavily monitored. No one left without permission. And he would definitely not let an enraged Dragon wreak havoc to the people of Alagaesia. It was bad enough that two of the ones that had lost their Riders during Blood Feast were already on the loose. The Riders stationed in Du Weldenvarden were using most of their skills to try to keep them North. If Vishkas was sent loose as well, Eragon would have to employ one of the Riders stationed elsewhere to monitor him at all times. And no one could leave their post at the moment. It was important they tried to keep a sense of security. Blood Feast had left all the races shaken, gripped with fear of another war. The presence of Riders among them, lent stability and prevented panic.

 _Master, should some of us return to Alagaesia? To help?_ Thyxia, a reddish pink Dragon projected her thoughts for all to hear. _If, as Mistress Keya says, Murtagh and Thorn can assist more as Dragon and Rider, why do we not send more pairs back home?_

"There are enough Riders in Alagaesia. We are needed here on Dragonmount."

 _But not all Riders are helping with the search. Most have not even left their posts._ Eragon felt the Dragon's anger. Her will for vengeance. Her Rider, Humon, was silent, but Eragon knew he shared his Dragon's intent. The news that Nasuada's own son was butchered, had spread much unrest among the Humans here on Dragonmount. They saw it as a personal attack on their Queen. Even those of other races were making connections between the High Queen of the Varden and the Blood Feast, thirsting for vengeance. Nasuada was seen as a war hero and even though her rules on magicians were often disliked among Riders, her popularity had not diminished.

 _We all have our duties, Thyxia._ Saphira calmly reprimanded the younger Dragon. _We cannot abandon Dragonmount._

 _Do you think they might attack here next?_

 _We do not know. They might attack anywhere. They managed to attack Ellesmera and leave without a trace. The Elven capital is one of the most heavily guarded places. The spells we have placed here are not so different than the ones there. They might be able to pierce our wards with the same ease._

Saphira's words were met with a heavy silence. It was a truth they had trouble facing. The ease of their attack, the fact than no one had been able to put up a fight, scared Eragon. It was something he could not understand. He had spent many hours conferring with the Eldunari. They had no memory of a similar event.

"Which is why the Riders in Alagaesia cannot leave their posts. Another race might be the next target." His Riders nodded, most still lost in thoughts or conversations with their Dragons. "We need to focus on keeping the peace here on Dragonmount as well as Eaglegate. Unrest has also been brewing there. And we need to focus on our Students and their education. If an enemy is indeed lurking, they need to be ready. We will speak again when I have more news to share."

And with that, the Riders started exiting the chamber.

Eragon caught Tugdo's stare, he sent her a thought, letting her know of his will to talk with her and she remained sited.

He nodded to her and she approached. They waited for all the other Riders to depart before speaking.

"What news?" he inquired.

"We scourged the countryside again, Eragon. No sign of them." Her words were slow and anguished. She had been amongst those mostly affected by the news of the Blood Feast. The Urgal Rider that was killed was her father. He had been a great warrior, brother to Nar Garzvog.

Eragon wished he could comfort her, but she did not let anyone near. In fact, he believed she was avoiding him. She had volunteered to lead a team of students in searching the land surrounding Dragonmount for signs of danger. She had been flying for endless hours these past few weeks. Once, they had ventured so far away, Eragon had feared she meant to return to Alagaesia and had gone after her with Saphira. She had not been pleased and was colder with him ever since.

The look of her drawn features pained Eragon. He had become very attached to her constant, comforting presence. He missed her. Her solid advice, her calm manners. Her presence warming his bed. He had found himself yearning for a release. A few moments of bliss. But she had not approached him, had hardly even touched him or looked at him. So he had not asked and had slept alone.

Now she seemed eager to leave, her eyes were constantly darting towards the entrance. "Very well" he told her "Go and have some rest". She nodded and left with her feet drugging, exhausted.

Eragon watched her go.

Saphira gently nudged him. _Come on little one. We have work to do._


	21. Chapter 18 - Arya

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.**

 **Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I am very thankful for all your kind words and I am very happy that you have enjoyed the journey so far.**

 **To the guest that asked whether we are going to see a romance scene between Eragon and Tugdo, the Urgal Rider:**

 **There are a few romance scenes I am planning to include in this story, this might be on the list. ;)**

 ****

 **Chapter 18 – Arya**

"Here" Myriani bowed her head in respect and waved her hand towards the ground. Her silver hair looked as if on fire as the red light of the rising sun reflected upon it. She did not look down, avoiding the sight of the frozen body.

Arya and Murtagh carefully stepped forward, their feet crunching on fallen yellow aspen leaves and pine needles. The sight of the mound at the roots of a great pine tree made Murtagh angrily huff, his breath fogging in the air. Arya's fingers were numb and not only because of the freezing weather.

A slender body lay frozen, almost hidden among the dead leaves. Or what was left of it. She had trouble believing that it had once belonged to a Dragon. A young hatchling under her care. A lump formed in her throat.

Murtagh carefully made his way around the writhing tree roots, extending like snake turned to stone across the forest floor. He crouched above the body and muttered a spell to clean it from the reddish brown leaves that had fallen on it. He froze.

The corpse was headless, as they had expected. The attackers had left the heads of the hatchlings behind, but had taken their bodies. The Elves and the Riders had been trying to locate them for almost a month. This was the first they had found. Myriani, an Elven Rider, had located it in the northern parts of the forest yesterday. She had left it untouched and had immediately contacted Arya, who had flown here with Murtagh to examine it and search for any clues.

"Male" Murtagh muttered. "Gray colour"

"H…Heifu" Arya's teeth cluttered.

She secretly wished she had allowed Murtagh to come alone with Thorn. But she had wanted to show her decisiveness in finding and punishing the killers. Already many voices accused her, finding her personally responsible for this disaster.

Just three days ago a brawl had erupted between Elves that supported her and those who were asking for her to step down from the throne. The incidence had happened in the city of Kirtan and no one had been seriously injured, just a few broken bones. Still, this amount of dissent among the Elves was very alarming. They were not known for such violent arguments. _The Blood Feast left all of us shaken._

"Heifu…" Murtagh mused. His jaw was clenched so hard; it was a wonder it had not snapped from the force. "Bonded to the male Dwarf? Brousog?"

"Yes" she whispered. She wanted to avert her gaze and not look at the mauled corpse of the hatchling. But she dared not show weakness in front of Myriani. She was not certain what opinion the Elf had for her as Queen and did not want to feed her information that she could use to fuel the dissent against her.

"He was decapitated during Blood Feast, but these other… injuries. These I think were done later. A wild animal perhaps?" Murtagh turned his sorrowful eyes towards her and she realized he was just as affected by the grotesque sight as she was. He was simply hiding it better.

She straightened her back and took a few steps closer. Her foot stepped on something strange. She glanced down and quickly raised her eyes. A tremor passed through her body and her stomach convulsed.

She sensed Firnen sending her a thought of concern. All three Dragons were in a clearing about a mile south. The Riders had agreed to leave them there and walk the rest of the way. The forest was too thick for them to land easily and they did not want to carve a clearing for them as that could potentially destroy any evidence. Arya sent Firnen a quick thought that everything was fine and quickly stepped forward, away from the frozen piece of the Dragon's insides.

Myriani let out a soft sob. Arya gave her a quick glance. She was crying.

Arya turned her attention back to Murtagh. She wanted to finish here quickly. Her hand twitched and she craved for the flask full of sweet mead she had left in her saddlebags with Firnen.

"No animal would leave this" she whispered to him.

He gave her a knowing glance. "You are right. I believe these wounds were done with a tool. A knife perhaps."

"Why would they also gut his body? He was already dead."

Murtagh had no answer to that. Arya noticed that a wing, two of its legs and half the tail were also missing. No teeth marks were visible. Which meant Murtagh was probably right.

"The cold has preserved it quite well. I do not remember the weather to be so cold this time of the year. When Thorn and I travelled in these parts, the ground would not freeze for another month at least."

"The weather has been unusual recently. Colder here in Du Weldenvarden. More storms near the coast."

"Like the wind we encountered during our journey from Dragonmount."

"Many things have been unusual of late." Myriani commented. She was not looking at them. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.

 _Was that comment meant as a slight to me?_ Arya wondered.

Murtagh was frowning. Arya had talked with him about the troubles she had been facing. She was glad for his arrival. She needed his support more that she liked to admit. "We should take the body back to Ellesmera. We need to examine it carefully and look for clues."

"The weather is not as cold in Ellesmera. We need to keep it frozen." Myriani said and approached the body. She kept her eyes on the frost coated branches high above them and raised a hand above the corpse, careful not to touch it. She cast a spell in the Ancient Language in a low voice.

When she was done, she removed her grey cloak and placed it on the body. "We need to transfer the body as quickly as possible. To…keep it preserved" she almost choked on the words.

"We should search the surrounding area too" Murtagh rose and looked around, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword.

"Myriani" Arya turned to the Elven woman. As her dark brown eyes fell on her, Arya was reminded of the fact that Myriani was older than her by many centuries. She had fought bravely in the Rider War and had even been among those that defended her father's body and brought it back to Ellesmera. Arya felt like a small incompetent child before collecting herself. "You should take the body back for examination. Murtagh and I will continue the search." She felt slightly guilty of her request.

Myriani did not immediately answer. She searched Arya's face, making her feel uncomfortable. Murtagh was openly staring at them.

When she broke her gaze, Arya almost slumped in relief. "Be very careful, Arya Dröttning" With a deep bow, she lifted Heifu's corpse using magic and turned south, towards her Dragon.

Arya called her Dragon to join them and sensed Murtagh doing the same.

Once Myriani's steps were no longer audible, Murtagh turned to Arya. "Are you OK?"

"Perfectly fine" she answered him with dark humor, ignoring the double meaning of his question. "We should look around; I do not wish to waste a lot of time here."

They searched the forest, careful not to get too far away from one another. It was obvious that Heifu's body had been hastily violated. They found plenty of evidence in a small radius from where they had found the body. Pointing mainly to the west. Whenever they found a part that had once belonged to Heifu's body, they made sure to burn it.

With a rustle of wings, Thorn and Firnen appeared above the treetops. Arya sighed in relief.

 _The forest is too thick here._ Thorn's deep voice resonated in Arya's mind. _I saw a clearing to the south-east, we can land there._

 _Go and we will find you,_ Murtagh replied.

 _We will fly above you and go together,_ Firnen sternly told could feel the Dragons' discomfort. They did not want to leave their Riders alone. And truth was, their presence made her feel more secure. The forest was too quiet. As if every animal had left or was cowering in fear.

Arya glanced at Murtagh. "I do not think there is anything else to find here. Should we make for the clearing?"

Murtagh was worryingly looking around. "Do you feel any animals around, Arya? Since we came, I have not felt, seen or heard a single bird."

"Neither have I. Myriani said this part of the forest felt empty and that was why she had searched the ground here."

"And she found life all around?"

"I believe so… The…dead body must have scared them away from this spot."

"Mmmm…" Murtagh's knuckles were white as he grasped the hilt of his sword. His dark eyes were constantly darting around.

"Murtagh?"

"Yes… Yes, let's go."

They walked in silence for a while, the Dragons circling high above.

"I do not understand, Arya." Murtagh whispered after a while. "Why? Why did they do this? Whoever they were? What was the point?" his eyes pierced her.

She felt tired and weak. She had asked herself the same questions again and again. She had been asked many more times by everyone. Hearing Murtagh, now, was different somehow. She had hoped the Red Rider would have helped her find out, but he was just as lost as her. The fact filled her with fear. She tugged her cloak closer to her body, suddenly freezing. "I do not know." She softly replied.

They walked the rest of the way each one lost in their own thoughts. Soon, they heard the gurgling sound of water and spotted a small stream through an opening in the trees.

As soon as they neared the clearing, the Dragons quickly descended. Arya almost run to Firnen. She touched his snout and he blew warm air at her. They stood there for a while, comforting each other.

She walked around Firnen to reach her saddlebags. She got her flask and took a sip. The mead warmed her and cleared her mind.

Murtagh took a flask of his own and went to fill it in the stream.

Arya took another sip, careful to not overdo it. She glanced at Murtagh and wondered whether she should offer some to him. She saw him splash some water on his face. _Well, I guess we each have our ways._

She closed the flask and regretfully tucked it in one of her bags.

Thorn let out a warning growl that echoed across the silent forest.

Arya heard a scraping sound as Murtagh unsheathed his sword. She looked around wildly, searching for danger. Firnen turned to look towards Murtagh and Arya followed his stare.

A pair of glowing yellow eyes were looking at them high on the branches of a pine tree, on the opposite side of the stream.

Arya hurled her mind towards them, trying to pin down the creature that owned them. Murtagh, Firnen and Thorn did the same. And they found its mind open, without fear. _No need for that,_ a male voice mockingly told them.

A large ginger werecat appeared and jumped towards them. Arya went to stand next to Murtagh, who still held his sword ready. He was looking at the werecat suspiciously.

The werecat stopped on the opposite side of the stream and cocked his head at them. _You can put away your metal stick, Red Rider. I only wish to speak._

Murtagh did not lower Zarroc. "How do I know your words are true?"

The werecat rolled his eyes and said in the Ancient Language. _I am a werecat. My name is Yelloweyes. I wish to speak with you and I do not intent to attack you._

"Yelloweyes?" Murtagh asked, sheathing his sword. "Were you not the one who sat next to Nasuada's throne?"

 _Yes, many years ago._

Arya gave the werecat a careful look. She had seen him once, sitting next to Nasuada on a plush red velvet cushion. He had taken up most of the space appointed to him. She had trouble believing this rugged, thin werecat was the same one. His coat was dirty, blood from a recent kill fresh on his paws. But his eyes were the same she realized.

Yelloweyes noted her searching look. _I have… faced hard times, Shadeslayer._

"Haven't we all?" muttered Murtagh and sat by the stream.

Arya remained standing. She did not completely trust the werecat. His eyes had a strange glow that unnerved her.

"Have you heard about the Blood Feast?" Murtagh asked him.

 _I have._

"And have you seen anything strange in these parts?"

 _Many strange things I have seen, Shurtugal. The son of Morzan and the daughter of Islanzadí working together, for example._ Yelloweyes sat on his hind legs and stared at them.

Arya gave him a cold look, but Murtagh simply snorted. "Anything else?"

 _From the direction you came from, I guess you have already found the ravaged body of one of your own._

Both Dragons growled at him, but he did not seem to mind their threatening looks.

 _Quite the turmoil they caused in the forest._

"You saw them?" Arya demanded.

The werecat flicked his tail in annoyance. _I heard them._

"When?" Murtagh looked at him warily.

 _Almost a month ago. It was dark when they came. I was simply minding my own business, trying to catch a bird for dinner, when all the animals started panicking, running around and away in fear._ His thoughts turned smug. _I caught a deer as it blindly run towards me. It was delicious._

Firnen raised his wings threateningly. _You knew what they were doing and used the uproar to your advantage?_ he roared so loudly, Yelloweyes slightly cowered.

 _I did not know. I did take advantage of the uproar because I was hungry, you overfed lizard._

"Did they speak? Tell us what you know." Murtagh interrupted.

Yelloweyes stared at Firnen for a while longer before turning his attention back to Murtagh. _I caught my prey and retreated in a safe place to eat in peace. They… did not stay long. I later saw what they had done. I visited the spot once._

Arya crossed her arms, trying to shield herself from the memory.

 _They seemed to…enjoy it. I heard laughing. That made me wary. I hid from them. Had to leave my prey. Thankfully they did not touch it. It was very juicy, but I guess they were not hungry._

Arya impatiently shifted. "Did you see their faces? Did you hear what language they were speaking? Which race they belonged to?"

 _Were they Elves?_ She wanted to ask him. She had thought long and hard about that night. No one had seen their faces, but they had been impossibly fast and efficient. She had heard the whispers. _Who but Elves could have done this?_

In one of their conferences Eragon had proposed that they could have been from any race, their skills enhanced with magic. He had faced similar opponents when Az Sweldn rak Anhûin had attacked him in the tunnels under Tronjheim.

The image of Faolin's face under one of the dark hoods, haunted Arya. She had not spoken about it with anyone other than Firnen, but she wondered. Could it had been an Elf she saw? She had certainly hallucinated the presence of her lover, but maybe she had simply mistaken another Elf with similar features as him.

 _I could not distinguish their words or what language they spoke in. Only the excited tone of their voice. The reek of blood on their dark cloaks._

"So you did see them." Murtagh slightly rose. "You lied to us."

 _I did not see their faces, Shurtugal._ The werecat was wary. _They passed close to my hiding place. They were wearing dark cloaks and had a sack that reeked of death with them. Four figures, headed west._

"And then you ate and waited here all this time? You expect for us to believe that you waited for us to show up so that you could tell us this?" Arya took a menacing step forward. She would find out what the cat was hiding at any cost.

Murtagh gave Arya a glance and lightly touched her mind, asking permission. She let him. _If he ate the whole deer, that is why he has not yet left. Could not move most likely. I mean, look at him._

Arya did. If the werecat was saying the truth and had eaten a whole deer, he must have been famished. If this was his appearance now, what had he been like before?

 _It was fortunate that you came. I guess you have not yet found them? Or who they were? What they wanted?_

The werecat's accusations made Arya's cheeks sting. She had failed. As a Queen and as a Rider. She had failed in the most horrible way. She was now taking criticism from a cat that could be half her age for all she knew. Bad enough that the werecat Maud had chosen to travel to Dragonmount. Did Yelloweyes share in her views that she was not fit to be Queen?

 _We have not._ Thorn admitted. He lowered his head to look directly at the werecat. _Any further assistance you can give us, will be much appreciated. We can take you somewhere else, with easier prey to hunt._

The Dragon's quick thinking surprised Arya. Thorn was usually quiet and brooding. But his Rider was much the same and Arya knew that Murtagh was much more intelligent than he showed. It was obvious that the werecat had been starving. If they offered him food, he would likely cooperate better. Arya wondered why he had left Ilirea and what exactly he had been doing this far north. She did not ask though, but waited for his response.

 _Well, if that is the case…_ The werecat rose and, with a quick leap, crossed the stream. His body rippled and a young boy appeared in his place. He had the same glowing eyes and his head was crowned with red-yellow curls. A jagged line travelled down his chest to his left thigh. An old wound. He untied a piece of cloth from his right ankle and hastily threw it over his body.

He straightened and gave them a toothy grin, revealing sharp fangs. "As I said, I did not see their faces. One of them, though, had boots decorated with the Tear Knot at the heel."

"What is that?" Murtagh asked.

Arya answered. "It is a symbol used by the citizens of Ceunon. They commonly place it as decoration on their houses and other objects. It signifies strength and unity."

Murtagh angrily turned to Yelloweyes. "How convenient, that you happened to notice something so specific. You said they went west, so I suppose you mean for us to travel to Ceunon. What game are you playing? If you have known were they went, why did you not immediately contact the Elves, so that they could follow them? Why did you not warn the city of Ceunon? The killers might have attacked them."

"But they did not, did they? I had no means to contact the Elves. And I did not know exactly what had happened. It took me a few weeks to piece it together from the minds of animals that passed through."

Murtagh looked at Arya. _He is hiding something. This is a trap._

Arya shared his concerns. _It might be. It is certainly one of his schemes. But, can we ignore his advice? He is a werecat after all. We should listen to him._

Murtagh did not look so convinced. "You wish to come with us to Ceunon?" he asked Yelloweyes.

"I might come along, if that is where you are headed"

Arya lightly touched Murtagh's mind. _We should head that way. Maybe we might find more clues along the way._

 _Do you not wish to return to Ellesmera? Thorn and I can go._

 _No._ She shook her head. _I must go as well. We have no other clues, Murtagh. Nothing but this. While Heifu's body is examined in Ellesmera, we must follow this trail. I do not mean to return empty handed._ She tried to convey her determination to him. She meant her words. She had to find them and punish them. The werecat's lead was almost nothing, but she had no other choice.

Murtagh nodded. _You are right. We might have gone west anyway. That is where the trail led._

Arya gave him a small smile, grateful for his presence. Turning to the werecat, she told him: "We will travel west. If the trail leads to the city of Ceunon, we will follow it. You may come with us. You can ride we me and Firnen."

The werecat gave her an almost mocking smile. "How kind of you, Arya Dröttning."

 **Please review ;)**


	22. Chapter 19- Ismira

**Please review ;)**

 **Chapter 19- Ismira**

 _Have you seen my white ribbon? For my hair? I thought I left it here._ Ismira rummaged into the mess on her desk. Parchments and various trinkets covered every spot on the dark mahogany surface. Many had spilled onto the floor. She had not tidied up for… A few weeks. _How did I make all this mess?_

The rest of her room was in a similar state. Her bed was unmade; three sets of sheets lay crumbled on it. The doors of her wardrobe were ajar, clothes spilling on the marble floor. She needed to do laundry soon. The brown pants and tunic she was wearing were the only clothes she had that did not reek.

 _I think it is by your dressing mirror._ Itha answered. The dragon was curled on her bed, a depression on the floor covered with thick grass. She liked burying her face among it while sleeping. Even though she constantly set it on fire, Ismira helped her keep it always green.

A knock sounded on their door.

Ismira froze with her head under the desk and a wooden box on her left hand, its contents spilled over the floor. Mainly quills, most of them broken.

She carefully sent her mind towards the door.

 _Anita._ "Yes?" she called.

"Ismira?" her friend sounded concerned.

"Yes, I can hear you!" she hastily tried to rise and almost hit her head. She muttered a curse under her breath.

"Ismira, are you all right?" Anita called.

"Yes, yes" she dropped the box and the quills on her desk, making an even bigger mess. She ignored it and run to the door. She tried to straighten her hair, before opening the door slightly. "Anita, Good Morning" she tried to sound nonchalant and blatantly failed.

Anita gave her a look of concern. She was a Human Rider, close to Ismira's age. She had her sandy blonde hair in a bun on top of her head and was dressed for flying. Her baby blue eyes scanned Ismira from top to bottom, noting her unruly hair and creased clothes.

She opened her mouth, but Ismira cut her. "Are you headed to a Flying Lesson?"

"We are… Care to join us?". A smile tugged on her friend's face.

Ismira shifted on her feet. "Oh, I wish. But I gave Mistress Keya my word that I would help her today. Itha and I were ready to head to the Healing Chambers." She gave her friend a fake smile.

"I see…" Anita hesitated, sadness etched on her features.

A pit formed in Ismira's stomach. She should not have mentioned the Healing Chambers. Mistress Keya had indeed asked for Ismira's help, but so had a few others. As they did every day. She could have used one of them as an excuse, even though she did indeed intend to go to the Healing Chambers.

When she woke up this morning she has decided that her days of isolation were over. And she would start at the place that hurt more. She used to enjoy studying under Mistress Keya. The incident with Hilda just proved how much she still had to learn. And she would. She was determined today she would be strong.

Anita had lowered her eyes. "I… That is… I miss her too."

Ismira's face tightened. She was prepared to face her nightmares but did not want to discuss what had happened the last time she was in the Healing Chambers. Not with Anita, even though she meant well. Maybe not with anyone.

Blood. And Death. Hilda's glassy eyes swam before her. She clutched the knob of her door for support. Cold. Like her friend's hand had been. Her body.

Itha's mind engulfed hers. Surrounded her. Held her steady.

Ismira calmed down. She sent a wave of gratitude towards her Dragon.

Itha had been supporting her all these weeks. Without her, Ismira would have floated away.

Anita did not seem to notice Ismira's lapse of control. "If you want…"

"I don't want to be late. Mistress Keya will be waiting." She made to close her door, trying to shut her friend's consoling words out.

Anita extended her arm and stopped her. "Wait". Her eyes flashed with anger.

Ismira felt her own cheeks flushing. Not just anger, but shame and regret. Emotions she could not allow to show. Many of her fellow students had come by her room since the night of Hilda's death. She had shut them all out. Had isolated herself in her room with only Itha for company. She did not want to hear or see anyone else. Most of all she did not want to answer their countless questions about the Blood Feast in Ellesmera. What she had seen.

She still had nightmares. Every night she woke trembling, soaked with sweat. She had placed spells in her rooms to keep anyone from eavesdropping on her screams. Even this morning she had woken up with her throat blistered, blood filling her mouth and in need of healing.

She felt a pang of regret for causing her friends pain by pushing them away, but they did not understand. Could not.

Her hand tightened on the knob.

Anita took a deep breath. "Your father will be waiting for your weekly meeting. Master Eragon asked me to tell you that he grows impatient."

Cold sweat run down Ismira's back. Itha raised her head and flared her nostrils, sensing the torrent of emotions running through her Rider. Ismira had forgotten about her father. She had ignored four of their meetings already, something she had never done before. She could imagine the state he would be in if she ignored another one. His anger. His shouts.

 _No!_ her panic rose. She was not ready to face him.

"Thank you for telling me" she quickly replied to Anita and shut the door on her friend's worried face.

Ismira put her back on the door and slid to the floor. She was not yet ready. She could not do this.

She put her head between her hands. She had been absent from her lessons for more than a month. Her teachers had excused her first. Had left her alone in her grief while they tried to deal with the tragedy. As the days passed and she had still not appeared, they started coming by her rooms. Trying to help her they said. Leave me alone she had replied. And so they had. After they had realized that they could not push her any more. Perhaps they feared she would break. Perhaps she was already broken.

Itha came near her and put her massive snout on the floor in front of her, warming her with her hot breath.

Ismira looked up. Into her Dragon's copper eyes. Her heartbeat slowed down. Her hands stopped shaking. She was not alone. She was not helpless. She gave Itha a strong hug, sending her thankful thoughts.

 _Shall we go, little one?_ Itha prompted her.

 _Yes,_ Ismira replied.

She rose and spotted the ribbon she was looking for by her dressing mirror. She quickly grabbed it and tied up her hair.

She turned back to her Dragon. _I am ready._

Itha gently nudged her towards the door and followed her Rider into the wide corridor, filled with rows of doors.

Ismira scanned both ways. It was empty and quiet. All doors closed. No sign of Anita. She slightly relaxed. The others must have also gone to training.

She softly closed the door behind her and headed for the turn three doors from her rooms. She peaked around the corner. This corridor held no doors, but many other corridors branched from it.

All was quiet. The way ahead was also empty.

She walked softly, heading for tunnel between the Student's Residence and the Healing Chambers. They could have gone through the Main Grounds or flown from their rooms, but the mere thought made Ismira tremble. She did not wish to feel the weight of all those eyes on them. She tried to think of the route most likely to be empty this time of day.

They had not gone a few feet when they heard the scraping of boots coming from ahead. From one of the corridors from their right side.

Ismira froze, her left hand immediately clutching the dagger she kept hidden on her.

She heard soft murmurs and strained her ears to hear more.

"…and next week we should start teaching them the new formations."

She recognized Master Eragon's voice. Her heart started hammering in her chest. She looked around wildly, searching for a place to hide. Itha turned to look at her with reproach, but Ismira did not pay attention to her.

"Some are ready. I will start today. It will be easier to train them in groups." _Blodhgarm._

The air left Ismira's lungs as panic fully seized her. She was not ready for them. She could not face them. She was a fool to leave her rooms in the first place. _I have to get away._

They were coming closer. She could hear them, but could not understand what they were saying. The ringing in her ears was deafening.

She started trembling.

 _What are they doing here?_

But she already knew. This part of the Student's Residence held only rooms for Riders in training and their Dragons. Which meant they were probably headed for her rooms.

She did not think. She bolted through a side corridor. She tried to make as little noise as possible as she run, thankful that she was wearing soft shoes and not her boots.

She took a turn, and almost sighed in relief to see it empty.

But it was a dead end.

She quickly whirled around and almost collided with Itha. Her Dragon had followed her, but Ismira had not heard her.

Now Itha blocked her way.

Ismira made to walk around the Dragon, but Itha moved towards her. She nimbly curled herself around her Rider and blocked her with her tail.

Still Ismira heard nothing of her Dragon's movements. Which meant that Itha was most likely using her magic again. The realization stopped her.

Itha's mind engulfed hers. _Calm down, Ismira. Stay here. We are safe. They will not see or hear us here._

Ismira clutched the roughhewn stone wall for support. She tried to calm her breathing. And tried to listen for anyone approaching.

The sound of boots was louder. If she peaked around the corner she would she them passing. So she sunk to her knees and grabbed Itha's tail for comfort even as her body shook.

A knock echoed in the empty corridors.

A second one. Louder.

"Ismira!" she heard Master Eragon call. "Itha!"

Itha brought her head above her Rider and draped a wing around her. Shielding her.

Still Ismira heard the muffled words. "Maybe they are not in their rooms."

Silence. Then: "Anita did say they planned to go help Keya…"

More silence.

 _Go away!_ Ismira prayed and pressed herself against the wall, trying to hide from the world.

"Yes…" an answer to a question she had not heard. "Let us go back to my rooms."

Their steps gradually receded, but Ismira still knelt on the cold door.

Itha brushed her mind against hers, trying to comfort her. Ismira felt the Dragon's concern. _Oh, Ismira…_

 _I know,_ she snapped back. And instantly regretted venting her frustration at Itha, when she should be angry with herself.

She hid her face with her hands. _What am I doing?_

 _You just panicked. Master Eragon would understand, Ismira. If you just talked to him about it…_

 _I don't want to._ She closed her mind from Itha for a moment, trying to hide her true feelings from her Dragon. Her greatest fear. That if Eragon had seen her in such a state, if she admitted her problem to him, he would see her as unworthy of being a Rider. Another tremble rocked her body.

 _Do not think about it. Don't. Don't._

Itha lifted her wing and brought her head in front of Ismira, forcing her to look at her eyes.

So Ismira shoved her thoughts away, dug a hole and put them there, where Itha could not see, and opened her mind once more.

 _I am sorry, Itha. It's just… I'll try to do better. I promise._

 _Little one…_

But Ismira did not let her finish. _We promised Mistress Keya we would help her today. So, shall we?_

 _Are you sure you are ready, Ismira?_

 _Yes,_ she replied and rose from the floor. She lightly dusted her trousers and straightened her hair once more. Shoving the storms in her mind down and donning a fake smile she looked at her Dragon with her head held high.

 _Yes,_ she repeated.


	23. Chapter 20- Elva

**Please review ;)**

 **Chapter 19- Elva**

With a final grunt, Lex finished off. He collapsed on top of her, his face between her breasts. She stroked his dark hair as he lay panting, pretending to be catching her breath as well.

They stayed like that for a few moments and then he climbed off her and laid down on her side, a hand on her bare thigh. Her husband's body glittered with sweat, as did her own.

She had faked another orgasm this time. He seemed pleased and she did not mind. She faked them most times anyway. It served her well, for him to think she was enjoying these activities. She could sense how hurt he was when he thought he had not pleased her enough and she needed him happy and functional.

Ever since the Blood Feast, more than a month ago, she could not find time to relax. Her mind was always preoccupied. She thought of Nasuada, constantly worrying about her. And of the future. Hers and the whole Kingdom's.

What would happen if Nasuada died without an heir? Who would step up to take her place? An inadequate replacement no doubt. One that would not serve Elva's interests.

So she had begun to work on a solution. Faking a new found lust for her husband, she had taken him twice daily, more if she could find the time, trying to conceive. She had decided that now Sipho was dead and Nasuada weak, she must have a child. A child for the Queen to love and call her heir, making Elva more powerful than any other in the Kingdom. If Nasuada declared one of Elva's children the next monarch, she was confident she could use her skills to protect her child from any danger and see them crowned.

She had been trying to get pregnant for almost a year, ever since their wedding. But she had not showed such an enthusiasm for the act until now. Lex had responded eagerly to her newfound lust for him.

She tried as often as she could, praying for good news soon. Eragon's curse had affected her in more ways than were initially apparent. One of them was that her cycles had always been irregular and infrequent. She had feared that she would be unable to conceive a child, but Trianna had examined her and proclaimed her able. The only problem was, the magician suspected she would be fertile for fewer years than other women. So Elva had quickly married Lex, Nasuada's captain of the guard, with the Queen's blessings.

She was taking all of the herbs and potions the magician concocted for her. And she had asked advice from any woman brave enough to talk to her about such matters.

She turned and gave her husband a kiss. He replied by caressing her back.

He broke the kiss and went for her right breast.

Elva's breath caught and she moaned, but she stopped her husband's attempts at another round. "We'll continue tonight my love. For now, the Queen needs our attention."

She climbed off the bed, despite the annoyed look on his face, and went to clean herself. The room they were sleeping in had an opulent bathroom attached to it. It had heated water from a natural hot spring underneath the castle and was decorated with pink marble and gold faucets. From what Elva had gathered, these rooms once belonged to Morzan's lover.

As she bathed, she wondered whether Selena had cleaned herself meticulously after each intercourse she had with that Forsworn. Of course, she had not been a much better person herself, no matter what that idiot, Eragon, said.

She left the bathtub and wrapped herself with a plush towel. She wondered whether she should try again this morning. But no, one of the cooks claimed yesterday that she should not overdo it.

She brushed her dark hair, styling it so that it fell over her brow, hiding the mark beneath. She disliked it when others gawked at it. It made her feel filthy.

Patting herself dry, she left the towel where the maid would take it.

Lex's eyes followed her naked body as she moved through the room, trying to locate her clothes. She started getting dressed quickly. Would Nasuada be awake already? She glanced at the small window. Dawn was near. _Maybe today I can make her come with me for a stroll by the lake._

She searched for her belt. The dress was of a new design, currently in fashion in court. There would be no noble women to admire it today, but she enjoyed wearing it. The deep green velvet felt luxurious in her touch and she had always enjoyed the finer things.

Lex's hand suddenly wrapped around her waist. He had found her woven belt. He expertly tied it around her waist, while kissing her neck. She noticed that he was still naked.

When he finished, she turned around and wrapped her hands around his neck, kissing him deeply.

Theirs was had not been a marriage of love, but convenience. But, Lex was a good man. He was respectful and understanding and gentle. Most importantly, he never looked at her with revulsion or fear.

More and more she caught herself thinking of him throughout the day. Yesterday she had even daydreamed of the feel of his manhood inside her. _He is useful to me, nothing more._

She used her gift to search for any pain or danger he may encounter today. She pulled slightly away from him. Looking into his sky blue eyes, she gently told him: "Be careful with the stew at lunch. Do not eat too quickly, it will be hot."

He kindly smiled at her, his face free of judgment. "I'll keep it in mind, my Lady."

He gave her another kiss and she left the room, letting him have a bath of his own and get dressed.

Outside, she stood for a moment and collected herself. The narrow winding staircase was dark on both sides, a few flameless lanterns giving little light. The only landing was the one she was standing on, where her room was located. She turned right and started climbing the stairs.

After the Blood Feast at Ellesmera they had left quickly, aiming to reach the safety of Ilirea. But, Nasuada's condition had worsened and instead they had come here, to the Estate on the Lake, that once belonged to Morzan and now served as the summer residence of the High Queen.

Despite the renovations done over the years, it was still dark and gloomy here at Morzan's private rooms, that the Queen had taken for her own.

Nasuada's rooms were isolated in the center of the castle. A single door led to a long staircase. Twenty Nighthawks and two magicians stood guard at all times.

As Elva made her way up the stairs, she cursed Morzan for his paranoia and she cursed Eragon for his spells, that made the journey up and down a torture for her every day. She stopped to catch her breath, clutching the wall for support. She wished there were windows here, as she dried her sweat with a piece of cloth she had hidden around her belt. A trick she had learned long ago, to prevent others from knowing just how weak Eragons "cure" had left her.

Panting, she reached Nasuada's rooms and gently opened the heavy wooden doors. The room was quiet and warm. Fire was crackling in the huge fireplace to her right. Twin red dragons decorated each side of it, the rubies in their eyes, shining as if afire themselves.

In front of her was Nasuada's large, four poster bed. The heavy velvet curtains, decorated with gold thread, were drawn open. Elva saw Triss, Nasuada's trusted maid, sleeping on the bed. They never left the Queen alone now. Elva, Trianna and Triss took turns in sleeping with her Majesty each night. They each wore a simple iron necklace with a spell of Trianna's invention. If they touched it and said the right word in the Ancient Language, they would alert the others that Nasuada was in need of healing. Thankfully, a warning had not come tonight.

The Queen herself was awake, sitting on a plush red armchair, overlooking the garden. Morzan had constructed it near the top of the castle, so that his dragon could easily fly in and out. It had high walls on each side, to be better defended in case of an attack and was not visible from the outside of the castle. When they had come here it was barren, but they had planted trees and plants, to make it a peaceful retreat. The double glass doors that led out were open, a soft breeze moving the curtains.

Elva walked softly on the carpet, nearing Nasuada. As she closed nearer she paused. The Queen was half sprawled on the armchair, her hair in disarray and her eyes blankly staring outside. She wore a see-through grey night gown that did little to cover her nakedness. For a moment Elva froze in fear, thinking the Queen had had another attack. But she noticed Nasuada's soft sobs and the tears running down her cheeks. She clutched a jade pendant in her hands.

Elva inwardly groaned. So, Nasuada had started grieving from the start of the day. She always ended the day grieving for her dead son, but some days, they managed to keep her semi functional until noon. But not today. Today, she would drown in tears. And her condition would worsen. Most likely, Trianna would have to heal her again before nightfall.

Ever since the Blood Feast, Nasuada's condition had worsened. Her attacks were much more often now. A week ago, she had had three attacks in a single day. Trianna was constantly tired. She was a resourceful witch, but not very powerful. So, Dane had even stepped in to help, healing the Queen when the sorceress was too tired to do it. They had managed to keep him quiet so far, but he still complained to Elva that the Queen was not likely to last the winter. She also suspected that Trianna was helping to keep the Rider's spirits up. By sleeping with him no doubt. She had not confronted Trianna about it yet. Truth was, they needed the Rider's help.

She ignored the voice telling her that the Rider might be right. Nasuada had to live. She had to. Elva needed her.

"Good morning, your Majesty" she said and curtsied.

Nasuada lethargically turned her head to look at her. "Elva" she whispered, bringing the jade necklace close to her chest. Her hand shook as she lifted it, barely having energy for even this small movement.

"May I bring you something to eat, my Queen?" Elva asked her.

Nasuada kept looking at her blankly, fresh tears running down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath. "I am not hungry" she said and turned her face away.

"I thought that we could have breakfast together today. I will help you get dressed and we can have picnic by the lake."

"I am not hungry" Nasuada said forcefully.

Elva was not surprised by her answer. Nasuada had been refusing food for almost three weeks. Fasting in her grief. They had managed to feed her at odd times, but it was not enough to keep her strong. Day by day she was wasting away.

Nasuada looked like a corpse. Her cheeks were sunken, the skin tight over her bones. Elva could see her ribs through her gown. The Queen's hair was limp and dull, patches missing from when she had torn them away while crying. Even her bones had weakened. She broke her wrist two days ago and they had healed it with magic.

 _As if her attacks were not enough. This grief will fade with time. And I will make her strong again,_ she tried to comfort herself. The sight in front of her made her doubtful, but she had to keep faith.

It almost looked like Nasuada had lost her will for life. But that was not true. Elva knew her Queen. Her will was the strongest in all the lands. It was still tiring though, this constant struggle. Five times now, they had forcefully fed her liquid food using magic.

It was the main reason they had come here, where she would be hidden from unwanted eyes. She had had major weight loss during their travel from Ellesmera, so they had taken her here instead, until she looked like her old self again.

Elva knelt in front of her and placed a hand expertly on her wrist, checking her pulse. She almost sighed in relief. It was normal.

"Should we attend to the matters of our Kingdom then?" she asked her.

Nasuada kept looking at nothing and did not answer her. "My Queen, there are matters that demand your attention." She insisted. Still no response.

This was the hardest part about Nasuada's condition. In her grief she was ignoring her role as ruler. They did the best they could, but no one among them could match the Queen's wit and efficiency. She was invaluable to the kingdom and without her steady grasp, the people would suffer. It would not take long for Nasuada's enemies to take advantage of the situation. If her control slipped, many would try to take her place and her crown. And what would happen then. To the people? Would they be able to survive a civil war? Their wounds had not been completely healed yet, even after seventeen years.

And most importantly, what would happen to Elva? She had no station without Nasuada. The title of Lady she had given her, was empty without her support. She hoped she would get pregnant soon, but still she would need Nasuada for many more months to come.

She had to make Nasuada care again. _But how?_ No matter what Elva told her, she did not seem to listen. Still, she tried again.

She went to a maple wood table, overspilling with papers. She took some reports and, bringing a chair closer to Nasuada's armchair, sat and started looking at them. She had already read them yesterday at Nasuada, but the Queen would not remember that.

"A letter form Lord Alfred of Kuasta". She read it aloud to the Queen. The fishermen from the coast had been affected by the unusually strong storms this summer. They requested help from the capital, but the farmers in other parts of the kingdom had also been affected by the bad weather and crops were bad.

They would probably have to send some magicians, but they were busy chasing four rogue magic users that refused to comply with the restrictions Nasuada had imposed upon them. The last sighting of them was near Dras Leona.

That was worrying news. These four had been more cunning than others. They had been evading the Wandering Path for almost six months now.

If Nasuada was better, she would have been worrying over the news. But not today.

She had no reaction. Elva almost groaned. The struggles of her people no longer moved her. Her compassion, her will to help them had turned to ash, along with the body of Sipho.

A challenge. That was what Nasuada used to thrive on. What made her a great ruler.

Elva had tried many things. And failed. She would have to find something new.

She placed her hand on the Queen's shoulder. "My Queen, do you not hear me? The people need your help. Your wisdom. They need _you_. Their beloved Queen."

Nasuada glanced at her. Her face crumpled with fresh grief. "And I fail them. I have failed them. Like I failed my boy." She shakily extended her fingers. "So close. He was so close. I could have held him in my arms and he would have been safe." She wailed and rocked her body back and forth.

"The attack was too sudden. Too powerful. Even the Elves with all their wisdom and power could do nothing." Elva tried to comfort her with words she had already spoken a hundred times.

"I wish it was me. I wish it was me instead."

Elva shivered. Nasuada had never spoken like that before. _Does she really wish to die then?_ Her actions suggested that, but she had never expressed it.

She tried to search the Queen with her gifts. And almost fell out of her chair. Pain. Suffering. That was all she could feel. She could not sense were it came from, how it would affect her. Just a sea of pain.

 _I have to find something to take her mind away from these thoughts._

"We have not been able to find the attackers yet. Another report came yesterday from Ellesmera. The Elves have yet to trace them." To mention the mutilated Dragon's body that Arya had found in the North would not help ease Nasuada's pain. It might even make her worse. So Eva did not mention it.

Nasuada kept crying.

"When we do, they will be punished."

She did not seem to listen.

There was other news, though, that had come from the Elven capital. Elva braced herself, hoping this news at least, Nasuada would not ignore.

"The report said something else as well." Nasuada was clutching at her throat, her eyes wild. "Murtagh and Thorn have come to Alagaesia, to aid in the search for the killers."

Nasuada stood still. _So that interested her?_

She slowly turned to look at Elva. "Murtagh?" she whispered.

"Yes. It seems the Red Rider started the journey home immediately after he heard what had happened." She hated herself for saying it. But, if he was able to keep Nasuada alive, Elva would not hesitate to use him in her schemes.

Indeed, a spark had appeared in Nasuada's eyes. It reminded Elva of the many times she had seen her come up with an elaborate plan. The sight gave her hope.

"Murtagh" she said again, the name a prayer in her lips.

Elva waited.

"I must see him. I must. He… Yes. Yes. He can…" Nasuada started to rise, but she waivered, weak.

Elva caught her. "Easy, my Queen". She carefully grasped her under the shoulders and helped her sit back on the armchair.

"Triss" she called loudly. The maid jerked on the bed and rose quickly, her eyes still sleepy. She tried to flatten her unruly brown curls as she hurried close to them.

"Go and find Trianna, Triss. And bring breakfast for her Majesty." The maid curtsied and left the room.

"I am not hungry. Help me rise, Elva." Nasuada commanded.

Elva obeyed and watched Nasuada make her way unsteadily around the room. Her back was hunched like an old woman's, her body and face that of a corpse. Elva did not move as the Queen went to her mirror. And stared at her reflection.

Elva hid a smile. "Murtagh will worry to see you so tired" she said as she went to her and placed a hand on her waist. The bones protruding from her hips and her spine were visible.

"Yes" Nasuada replied looking at her skeletal limps through her transparent gown. Her gaze stopped at her once full breasts now sagging.

Elva did not mention that even in their previous state, they had failed to entice the Red Rider, who could have any woman he wished for in his bed.

"You should eat and rest."

Nasuada opened her mouth to protest. Elva continued: "Trianna can contact him and request a visit. By the time he reaches us, you will be strong again. And…" she said bringing her mouth close to the other woman's ear "he will not resist you this time."

Nasuada looked at Elva through the mirror and gave her a small hopeful smile.


	24. Chapter 21- Eragon

**Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to write a review! Please keep the feedback coming, it is very much appreciated.**

 **Chapter 21 - Eragon**

"And why did the younger lion attack then?" Eragon asked his students.

They were in a clearing near the southern foots of Dragonmount range. A wide white oak was on Eragon's back, its massive size providing plenty of shade. Eragon was sitting with his legs crossed on a rock boulder and the rest of his students were sitting on the grass in front of him. They had a clear view south, were they great plains stretched. The wind blowing from the south, brought the heat of the desert, which was visible in the distance.

Emery raised his hand and Eragon gave him permission to speak. "For dominance, Ebrithil. He was looking for an opportunity to mate." Eragon was pleased to note that the young human said this without a hint of shame.

When Humans came to Dragonmount, they held fast to their race's inhibitions about discussing sexual encounters, even those between animals. Emery was raised by his Lord father to act with finesse and politeness in all occasions, as their status demanded. The fact that he was more than comfortable to openly discuss such matters meant that the young Rider was progressing well in his studies.

Eragon nodded to his student in approval.

 _Perhaps this year, he and Boldrer will join us in the Haven._

"I would like a detailed description of your observations, as well as a drawing of your choosing, related to today's events."

"Yes, Ebrithil." His students replied in unison.

This class was composed of twelve Riders, a mix of races and ages. Eragon liked his classes to include both new and more advanced students. He had found over the years that new students were greatly benefited from those more advanced in their path to becoming full Dragon Riders.

He sometimes wished he had been given the chance to have a fellow student to study with in Ellesmera. Oromis had been right to make him spar with Vanir daily, even though their relationship was one of enmity in the beginning. He now made sure to promote cooperation between his students and the results had been astounding.

He felt Saphira finishing her lesson with the Dragons of the Riders in his class."That will be all for today then." He rose from the boulder and stretched his legs, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun on his face.

He had brought his students in this spot this morning to cast their minds as far as they could in the surrounding land and observe the thoughts of all living things around them. It was a different location from their usual meditation spots, but they had been rewarded when a pack of lions had passed near, giving them the opportunity to observe their behavior. They would not easily have had this experience if they had stayed in Dragonmount as these animals lived in the plains and rarely ventured so close to the mountains.

They had discovered some new and exciting species of animals and plants in this part of the world. Eragon was fascinated by them and always appreciated any opportunity to study them in person. Some of his Riders, as well as many residents of Dragonmount, had dedicated themselves to studying the unique flora and fauna of this part of the world. He was kept up to date with their discoveries, but rarely participated in the research himself. His duties were far too many and time consuming as it was.

Most students had been excited by the today's lesson and its highlight, a fight between two male lions. Even as they rose and dusted their clothes, they spoke among themselves, commenting on the lion's fighting style, while they waited for their Dragons to land and the them back to Dragonmount. Rhezin, a male Urgal, was even discussing ways to adapt some of the lion's moves to a hand to hand combat. Zenma, the female Urgal that joined them last year having completed one year of training with Arya, was nodding along with excitement, but Kirgik, the male Dwarf who had been chosen the same year as Rhezin, held an expression of concealed terror, no doubt due to his past experience of training with the Kull and the bruises he had obtained over the years.

Eragon made a note to himself to warn Rhezin against trying new maneuvers with Zenma. The girl had a lot of enthusiasm for anything related to fighting, even more than what was normal for an Urgal. She had already given a few unnecessary bruises to some of her fellow students in an attempt to impress her teachers.

Eragon could not help but notice though, that one of his students did not show the same enthusiasm as the others. Ismira had been quiet, taking the seat furthest away from him and avoiding his eyes. She had answered a few questions politely enough, but without her usual tone and wit.

His niece had begun attending her lessons last week, after one month of isolation. She started first with Keya. Eragon was aware of Ismira's interest in the healing arts and he was relieved that her friend's death had not diminished her desire to cultivate her talents in that subject. She then hesitantly attended flying lessons with Itha and a few lessons with other Riders. This was the first of his lessons she had attended.

Eragon could not shake the feeling that she was avoiding him. When she landed this morning in the clearing, she grabbed the Dragon's saddle for a while, her hands almost trembling. Itha had appeared worried to him as well and had reluctantly flow off to her own lesson with Saphira.

Now Ismira stood with her back turned to him, anxiously scanning the sky for her Dragon to take her back to Dragonmount. Eragon decided to take his chance now.

He had adopted the habit of keeping the wards around his mind light and frequently checking the area around him, aware of his surroundings. Since so many magic users were residing on Dragonmount, it would have been more trouble than was worth it, to keep his mind always open, like he did during the War. It was a habit most of his Riders also shared. A balance between being aware of owns surroundings and being respectful to others privacy. A proof of the trust they shared. Of peace.

He focused his mind towards Ismira.

And found her mind heavily guarded. So much, that she did not feel his touch.

"Ismira" he called.

She turned towards him, an aura of nervousness surrounding her like a thick coat. "Master?"

He motioned her to come closer.

She clenched the hem of her tunic and walked towards him, her eyes darting left and right.

The other students gave them a few glances, trying not to be too obvious. Their voices became softer though and a dark gloom descended upon them as memories of the events of the past month, that had been momentarily forgotten, came to the surface.

Ismira stopped a few feet away from him, her gaze downcast. Her luscious copper hair was free, falling in front of her face and hiding most of her face.

"I am glad to see you back to our lessons, Ismira" he tried to give warmth to his smile "I hope you are feeling better. Being busy among friends, I find, is an excellent antidote for the darkness of the mind"

Her unease did not lessen.

Perhaps he had chosen the wrong words. When she shared her memories of Blood Feast with him after Hilda's funeral, he had sensed her terror and despair. He had not thought much of it, as his own panic had risen. Too late he realized that he had done a horrible job in consoling her. It was more than obvious that she had trouble dealing with the events of that night and Eragon was at a loss of how to reach and help her.

It was a difficulty he had failed to realize in the sixteen years that had passed since the first of his students set foot on Dragonmount. The war had been too fresh one everyone's minds. Still was. It was not until relatively recently that Riders that had been born after the War were chosen. Riders that had never seen war, battle or bloodshed. Among them Ismira, who had been raised isolated in Carvahall, protected by Roran from any sort of conflict.

He had believed that through their lessons, his Riders would be able to confront anything. Many of his teachings as well as the various tests his students went through as they progressed through the stages of becoming a full Rider, were modeled after those of Voengrad. The Eldunari, with all their centuries of experience had helped him form them.

In their enthusiasm, drunk as they had been from their victory and the promise of a better future, they had forgotten. Nothing can truly prepare you for the reality of the world. Much less the reality of violence.

Most of what the new Riders were taught, the Riders of old were being taught as well. And still, they had fallen. Still they had perished.

Eragon could not shelter his students forever, much as he wished it. Eventually, they had to find their own way of dealing with their problems. He could give simply them the right tools for it. They were the ones who had to find a way to use them.

So, there was nothing he could do more than he already did for his students. Nothing more to help his cousin's daughter.

And as much as he wanted to give her space and time, it was necessary that they have this conversation.

"Your Father made contact again yesterday, Ismira." At that she paled, her breathing quickening. "I have explained the situation to him. I told him of your wishes, but he is stubborn."

"Master…" she started.

"I understand Ismira." He noticed Itha frantically flapping towards them, no doubt alarmed by her Rider's distress. "I released you from your oath to meet your father once a week. I believe you took it in haste anyway. As you remember, I had expressed my concerns, but respected your decision."

"I don't…"

"I do worry now, however. You should not isolate yourself. I know how difficult it is for you…"

"Master, really, I am fine." Itha landed behind Ismira.

"I understand." He repeated. She was half turned towards Itha, tense and almost ready to bolt. He continued more softly. "I was your age when I first saw bloodshed. As was your father. You can speak with him if…"

"Master Orjee will be waiting for me." She hastily said. Other Dragons were landing, taking their Dragons and leaving the clearing. Soon, Eragon and Ismira would be the only ones left.

"Whatever you need, you can come to me anytime Ismira."

"Yes, Master, thank you." She took a step back.

"But, I have to insist. You need to contact your family soon." He wondered whether he should tell her how worried Katrina was, but decided against it. Ismira did not need the extra burden of feeling guilty for worrying her pregnant mother.

"I will, Master."

"Soon?" he probed.

"Yes, I am just busy because I have stayed behind in my lessons." her cheeks reddened. "When I have some free time, I will contact them."

"I will tell Roran and Katrina to wait for your call then." He gave her a small smile.

She gave him a nervous one in return. He knew his subtle threat did not go unnoticed. It would be foolish of her to break a promise like that.

"Yes, Master." She bowed her head and quickly climbed on Itha's back. She did not look at him as the Dragon flew off.

He flew with Saphira to the Desert Pools, were they enjoyed a bath and a light meal from supplies he had packed this morning in Saphira's saddlebags. He had one of the sweet yellow apples native to this land and gave one to Saphira to taste herself.

 _Mmm, very tasty and juicy,_ she commented. _Is this one of Yara's creations?_

 _Partially. They sung them into growing a bit bigger, but the fruit is quite good as we discovered it._

 _These will catch a good price._

 _Oh, I believe they will._ Eragon contemplated the leftover seeds of the fruit he had just eaten. _Captain Uthar will take a shipment back to Alagaesia with him when he leaves tonight. We'll see how good they sell._

Before climbing on Saphira, he tucked the seeds in a pouch inside his saddlebags. The fruit was good, which meant they could use the seeds to grow more fruit that they could then sell.

From there, they flew northwest towards Eaglegate, the town that had sprung up at the western tip of Dragonmount. The town was built on five hills with the spring of Apro river between them.

Saphira flew with great speed over Eaglegate and many joyous voices were raised at the sight. Eaglegate was occupied mostly by those not permitted to enter Dragonmount. The city swelled every year and trade was booming. Eragon caught glimpse of merchants closing down the market for the night, before the city was behind them and they were over the Apro river.

From here the river flowed to the west, were it fed into a turquoise lake. The same lake the Edda river flowed into. Lake Assard.

It was not a name they had bestowed upon it.

When first they sailed here, they had thought themselves lucky to find Dragonmount and a body of water so close. It had been a unanimous decision between him, Saphira and his elven companions to make this their new home.

They had begun working immediately, trying to make the stronghold ready as soon as possible to house the new Dragons and Riders. So they had devoted almost no time to researching the lands around them. The land towards Alagaesia was mostly flat. No different than the land in the heart of the Empire had been. They had found mountains that provided a physical barrier. Water and fertile lands east of Dragonmount. A desert for the Dragons, who so liked the heat. It had been perfect.

But, a few months after their arrival, they had discovered that it had not been as empty as they had thought it to be. For they had awoken one late spring morning to find the shores of Lake Assard occupied by strangers.

The Assardi as they called themselves. Nomads who had been living here for centuries without those in Alagaesia having any knowledge of them. The Eldunari had been shocked at this discovery. Umaroth had explained that this part of the world had been left undiscovered and the Assardi, with their small numbers and knowledge of the surrounding land, had easily remained hidden from them.

In front of them, the southeastern part of Lake Assard was half hidden from view behind a great cloud of dust raised from various flying wild Dragons. Saphira quickly flew through it. For a moment they could see nothing but an orange tint all around them and then Eragon felt the vibration indicating that they passed through a set of wards.

They landed on the sandy shores of the lake and Saphira waved her tail in the ground, adding to the sandy cloud behind them. Various figures were working on the shores and few had waded deeper, holding long flexible tubes from a strange material whose end was lost in the depths of the lake.

Someone – not so politely- coughed in annoyance. "Those younglings are rising enough sand, flapping around like pigeons in fright. No need to add to it, Brightscales."

Eragon nimbly dismounted and grinned to the ancient Elf before him. "Better be safe."

"Hmph." Rhunon replied. She was sitting under a tree whose branches were covered with sand not just from the Dragons but that coming from the desert as well. The wind often blew from the direction of the desert here. This land would have been mostly dry if the lake and the river were not providing life.

"They'd better not drown down there." The elf's voice was muffled from the mask she wore covering her mouth and nostrils. She gave a fleeting glance to the figures on the lake's shore. "Such primitive equipment they have. I could have dived instead and we would be done in two hours."

"We must respect their customs, Rhunon-elda. They have been here long before us."

"It's not like they have any use for it anyway." She came closer to Eragon and spoke more softly so that the Assardi around them would not hear them. "I have studied their weapons as much as I could. I asked, but no one allowed me to touch one. They carry a bit of everything. Knives, spears, axes. Most are crude, poor technique, no finesse."

"How crude?" Eragon demanded. "Forgive me, Rhunon, but you would judge most of the weapons used by Galbatorix's soldiers the same way. And I remember them doing more than enough damage."

"The Assardi's weapons are not quite like the ones used by Humans. Even though you are correct, most of their weapons would be considered crude compared to the beauty of those designed and crafted by my people." Her voice held a tone of great pride, as she often did when discussing her craft. "They seem to have no real metalworker among them. At least none that would be considered skillful."

Eragon nodded. He had suspected as much from his years of studying the Assardi. They were a secretive people and mostly remained a mystery for the Riders. They had been hostile at first, and then, they had refused to deal with them very often. They resumed their nomadic lifestyle, rarely venturing this far west, even though they had come to accept the Riders' – and the Dragons'- presence.

"They do have a few good pieces." Rhunon continued. "But, I think those are old. Very old actually. That one carries one." She motioned to one of the Assardi Elders who stood on the lake shore. "A dagger. Dwarf made."

"Dwarf made! Are you sure?"

"I think so. If I could just see it properly…"

"But they hate the Dwarves. They refuse any contact with them."

"I thought they hated everyone."

"They actually do not hate all of us. They are just wary of us I think. But they do especially dislike the Dwarves." Eragon peered at the Assardi with renewed interest. The one Rhunon had mentioned was of an average height and had tanned olive skin from his days under the sun. He could not see his face clearly, hidden as it was behind the cloth he had tied around his mouth and nose to protect himself from the sand, but he was fairly certain it was Jashel. "He is one of their leaders." He told Rhunon.

"Yes, I gathered as much." she said with distaste.

"How do you think they got such a weapon? Have you heard the theories about their origins?"

"You mean the one about the Assardi being a product of Dwarves and Humans mating?"

"Yes." Eragon said softly. "They do have peculiar features. And not all of them are shared among them. Some are rather Dwarf like. Others are like the Wandering Tribes. Some do look like a mix of both. A few even look completely different. Could this dagger be a family heirloom? From a long dead Dwarf ancestor?" he said with a bit of excitement. He was rather fascinated by the Assardi, not less because they chose to be so secretive. He felt theirs was a mystery worth unveiling and he had devoted some of his free time- whenever he had some- to doing research about them.

"Mmmm, I cannot say for sure, Shurtugal. It could have been a spoil off War. If they had a feud with the Dwarves, they could have looted their enemies and then fled here. It would also explain why they do not like to have contact with the Dwarves. Or it could be that some foolish Dwarf once ventured in this land, trying to prove his might and courage, he then died and the Assardi just looted the body."

"It could be…" he still preferred the other theory. There was something strangely appealing to him at the thought of a people of mixed race living here for all those centuries. A proof that they could live together in peace. "The language they speak is like the common language of Humans, but they have a few words we believe are Dwarvish derivatives and they sometimes use words that sound like the Ancient Language."

"Like the word for stone I keep hearing all day?"

"Yes, have you noticed how much it sounds like the Elven word for it? They have a few others as well. I think they believe them to be sacred words. And they do not let us take the stone from the lake's depth, I think not because the lake itself is sacred to them – which it is- but the stone as well."

Rhunon snorted. She also shared the Elves' distaste for religious beliefs. "Brightsteel is extremely important, but it is definitely not from their gods."

"Well the Dwarves also regard stone as holy. They have countless stories relating stone and their gods."

She still seemed unconvinced about his theory. "At least these Assardi here have five toes, not seven as Dwarves do." Rhunon noted.

"Yes, I have noticed that as well."

"I am sure you have." The elf gave him a sidelong glance. "No wonder they warmed up to you and agreed to mine their sacred lake for us."

Eragon's cheeks lightly reddened, but before he could reply a splash was heard from the direction of the lake and the Assardi shouted in their strange language. Those in the lake expertly started pulling the tubes to the surface.

Soon, three figures emerged and were helped out of the water. Each one was carrying a hand woven basket. As Eragon quickly approached them, he noticed they were filled with rocks of various sizes. He felt himself relax and he sensed Saphira's satisfaction.

The divers came ashore and were quickly clothed in long, flowy robes in the Assardi fashion, as the had dived into the lake naked so that no clothes would hinder them. They were two males and one female, young and strong enough to be able to withstand the long hours in the lake's depths. And to safely bring the precious cargo of Brightsteel, the most valuable of metals, ashore.

He patiently waited with Rhunon at his side and Saphira at their back.

After being carefully examined, the divers tiredly made their way towards them, the rest of the Assardi following close behind. They knelt in front of Eragon and presented him with their baskets. He bowed to them in thanks. The Assardi believed that for their ceremonies, speech was best avoided, so Eragon respected their customs.

The divers skin was shrunken from being in the water for so long and their movement were slow and tires as they rose. The male divers withdrew, but the girl gave him a long look with a sweet smile. He smiled to her in return and nodded. She turned away with more spring in her walk, the tiredness of her ordeal momentarily forgotten.

 _That one is a bit clingy,_ Saphira said with disdain.

Even Rhunon raised a brow at him and he secretly hoped that she would leave this particular detail out of her report to her Queen.

They approached the baskets as the Assardi retreated, preparing to head north. The sun was setting and as this was a small band of nomads, they would easily be able to pass unrecognized past Dragonhold in the dark. Still, Eragon searched with his mind for the wild music that was Blodhgarm and informed him that their task was done. The sand the wild Dragon had raised had been sufficient to hide what they were doing from view. Now, the Dragons would just fly for a while north, continuing to hide the Assardi until they reached the cover of trees. All under the pretense that it was nothing more than a normal day of training.

Eragon muttered a few words in the Ancient Language and the pouch he had tied around his waist became visible. In it were three Eldunari.

He gave the pouch to Rhunon, who held it carefully, the importance of fact that she was holding the soul of a Dragon whose body had long been dead not lost on her. She then proceeded to kneel down to the baskets and mutter the incantation that would allow her to hide them and carry them safely back to Alagaesia, using the energy from the Eldunari he had just given her.

The moment the baskets disappeared, the Assardi swiftly departed and Eragon felt the cloud of sand lessen behind them and move to the north.

"I had planned to give new swords from this ore to the Riders chosen next year. But since Blood Feast…" Rhunon frowned and Eragon felt a chill in the air. "What do you wish me to do with the swords you sent with the eggs? I would have modified them for the new Riders, do you want me to give them to the next group?"

Eragon shook his head. "You can do as you see fit, Rhunon. I trust you make the best choice. If you think a sword is right for a Rider, by all means bestow it upon them. And if not, then, now you can forge them a new weapon. I do believe we should keep the tradition of it being a sword though."

"I'll keep that in mind. Quite a few of your students have asked me to forge an axe or a spear instead of a sword, but Brightsteel, I have only ever kept for sword making. Never have I attempted to forge it into a different shape." Her face slightly light up, thinking of the possibilities. "The bottom of the lake is covered with Brightsteel. If only we bypassed the Assardi's ban on mendling with their sacred lake…"

"We will see about that. We are fortunate to have this ore at the moment."

"Oh, we truly are! These will last us for a few years, Eragon." Rhunon gave him he elves' sign of respect. Giving her the material she so desired to practice her craft, seemed to have dulled the edges of her usual behavior.

"Thank you, Rhunon. For agreeing to come here" He mirrored her gesture. "I hope you found our hospitality to your liking."

"I did Shadeslayer, thank you." She removed her mask and gave him a rare smile. One that he had never seen before on her harsh face.

Saphira was also greatly amused. _We put in a fine mood indeed!_

"Shall we, then?" Eragon asked the Elf.

With a nod from her, they climbed on top Saphira and took off back towards Eaglegate.


	25. Chapter 22- Eragon

**This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones, since I initially intended to upload part of this on the previous chapter but ended up uploading the incomplete file. I hope it turned out coherent enough and is not too confusing! Hope you like it ;)**

 **Chapter 22- Eragon**

Saphira landed gently on the stone street, carefully wrapping her wings and tail so that she inflicted no damage on the surrounding structures. The circular spot was marked with bright green paint on the stones and lanterns on the ground. Sitting on Saphira's back, Eragon was at the same height as the roofs of the low buildings on their left side, each one painted a bright color. Most had their doors and windows open, many curious faces glancing at them with awe. A few were giving them wary glances as they monitored Saphira's landing. There were a few other landing spots in the city they could have used, ones that were larger than this, but none was so close to Eaglegate's port.

Even though the sun had set, the city was still filled with light and noise and its people were still strutting the streets. All around them, voices and laughter were heard from the hills surrounding the city's wide circular port, which was full with ships of various designs, standing still and proud in the calm waters of the artificial lake they had created to accommodate them.

When the city was founded, they had changed the river's path for its needs. It flowed into the city, some of it consumed by Eaglegate's residents, some flowing into canals and fountains, but most filling the port's basin, before flowing out of the city and resuming its natural course towards lake Assard. The great, roaring Falls from which the river jutted out of the mountains could be seen and heard in the distance.

Eragon and Rhunon quickly dismounted. An elegant ship was tied in front of them, at the front position on the port, ready to depart first. Its hull was painted a deep red with golden letters spelling the name on the side. The ship was bathed in light with a flurry of activity both on deck and on the embankment. Sailors were carrying heavy boxes and sacks full with merchandise onboard. A stout figure clad in burgundy velvet robes was standing in front of the gangway on the embankment, shouting orders and guiding the workers.

"Uthar!" Eragon called at the man.

"Master Eragon!" Uthar bowed deeply at them. "Lady Rhunon." The elf inclined her head with evident disinterest. "You are back sooner than I expected. You must forgive us Lady; we are not yet ready to depart. We need a few more hours to load a few extra things."

Rhunon raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought you were ready to depart this morning."

Uthar smiled nervously. "We were my Lady, but an unexpected business opportunity presented itself. And… well you said your tasks might take a while, so I took the chance."

"Mmm" Rhunon turned to Eragon. "I guess this is farewell then, Shadeslayer. Brightscales." She inclined her head to Saphira.

"Safe travels Rhunon-elda." He nodded to her and they shared a meaningful gaze.

She cast her gaze towards Uthar. "I will retire to my cabin now. I hope it is prepared?"

"Yes…yes of course." The captain anxiously replied.

"Do not disrupt me when we set sail. You won't take long, anyways." She said with a somewhat threatening tone.

"Of course not, my Lady." The elf did not listen to him. She purposely climbed the gangway and disappeared from view. The sailors stopped talking, scrambled aside to let her pass, and continued loading the ship with softer voices and quicker moves.

Uthar produced a silk cloth from the folds of his robes and lightly wiped his forehead. Eragon hid his smile. Truth was, he did not envy the captain his voyage. Rhunon could be somewhat unpleasant in the best circumstances, now she would be more than anxious to return to her forge in Ellesmera and continue her work. She was prone to lass out at Uthar and his crew.

"I hope business went well on this trip, Uthar." Eragon tried to ease the captain's nerves.

"Oh, yes! Yes, indeed. I made a few good deals. And the fruit you gave me Eragon! Oh they are just sublime!" the Human's expression changed to one of delight.

Eragon was always amused at how much Uthar had changed since the War. Gone was the grumpy pirate captain who had stolen on of the Empire's best ships. Now he was a jovial merchant, who could converse at lengths of all the deals he made. Eragon was always glad to see how well his new station suited him.

 _It's the money that suits him best,_ Saphira commented with sarcasm.

"I hope the spells you put on them will hold them fresh until we arrive in Tarnag, for I believe they will sell like mad!" Uthar was saying.

"Tarnag?" Eragon asked. "Is Hedart not your base?"

"It is, but this new deal I made will require me to go to Tarnag. You see…"

"Master Eragon!" A voice called from above.

Eragon raised his head and saw Maenal atop his amber Dragon flying above them. He opened his mind to them. _What is it?_ Eragon could feel the elf's distress and another emotion he was trying very hard to suppress. Anger?

 _A message from Ellesmera, Master. You must come quickly!_

 _From Ellesmera!_ Dread filled Eragon. He had not felt a summoning from Arya. He touched his bracelet. The links were warm, which meant that Arya had not contacted him. Was she harmed? If the message was that important why would she not be the one to contact him?

 _We will talk on Dragonmount, Maenal. Go and we shall follow._ Saphira told the Elf and she rose, preparing for flight.

Eragon tried to calm his racing heart. Saphira was right. It was best not to discuss such matters in Eaglegate were someone might overhear them. He cursed himself for forgetting. He had grown accustomed to the freedom they shared on Dragonmount, were every resident had sworn to hold their secrets. The people of Eaglegate were not bound that way.

 _Eragon! Hurry up!_ Saphira chided him. The amber Dragon and his Rider were already out of view.

Eragon turned to Uthar who was standing solemnly studying them. The rest of the sailors had raised their heads at the new Dragon and were throwing curious glances towards Saphira, but had not paused their duties.

Eragon got a few closed envelopes out of a pocket and gave them to Uthar. "Same as always." He told the captain.

"Of course, Shadeslayer." Uthar bowed again.

"Safe travels" Eragon quickly told him and almost run to Saphira. As she flew away, he saw Uthar hiding the papers in his robe and turning to shout at his sailors once more.

Saphira flew quickly, edging around the northern part of the mountain range and quickly gaining altitude. The mountains and the plains to the north were all shrouded in darkness. Maenal and his Dragon, Sadende, were visible in front of them, but Eragon did not call to them. _Do you think Arya or Firnen are hurt?_ He whispered to Saphira.

 _We will soon find out,_ she replied and Eragon felt her gain more speed. Her worry run through him like a current. If there had been another attack… If Arya was hurt… His stomach knotted until it hurt.

Soon, Dragonmount appeared before them. First, they spotted a few isolated lights on the mountainside, where tree houses stood, buried deep in the forest. Then as they rose above a low peak, the plateau they called home was below them. The Main Grounds were lit by numerous lanterns guiding those flying as well as those on the ground. The city its non-Rider residents had formed on the western part of the plateau was as filled with life and movement as Eaglegate had been. The mountain peak on its southern peak, were Eragon's private rooms lay, was as dark as it always appeared, the wards preventing anyone from seeing into them. But the eastern side, were the Riders mostly resided was full of light. It was still early enough in the night that most Riders would not yet have retired to their rooms.

Eragon spotted Maenal quickly dismounting in front of the Haven, were a few Riders were entering and exiting with an air of calm. He slightly exhaled. Whatever news had come, it could not be of another attack like Blood Feast, otherwise his Riders would be a lot more concerned.

As soon as Saphira landed besides Sadende, Maenal threw his mind towards Eragon. _My sister, Myriani, has contacted me Ebrithil. She still maintains the connection if you wish to speak with her._

 _Lead the way._

The elf hurried inside the Haven, Eragon and the two Dragons following close by. The corridors were mostly empty. Eragon did not speak to those few they passed. His Riders noted the tension on his face and followed them, once they realized which direction they were headed.

Maenal led them into the Mirror Hall. They passed a tunnel with doors on each side, leading to private rooms with mirrors inside. All the doors were open but the rooms themselves were empty. As they passed each room, Eragon caught reflections of himself. His face was drawn with worry. He tried to relax his features. As the leader of the Dragonriders, it would be better to maintain his composure, even as his heart hammered against his ribs.

They headed to the end of the tunnel, were the main chamber was. It was a vast room, with tall ceiling and ample room, able to accommodate many pairs of Dragons and Riders, in the occasions when they needed to communicate with someone as a group. Now it was packed. Dragons were standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to be as close as they could to the big mirror set on the wall at the far side. Many had Riders on their backs, and more figures were gathered in front of the mirror, hiding it from Eragon's view. It seemed most of his Riders were here already. More entered behind him. Most had curious looks on their faces, not yet knowing what news had come.

At the far side of the room the wall was covered with a single mirror. Most of it was inactivated, reflecting the room and the light of the flameless lanterns hang on the walls. A sea of faces and fangs and wings. Apparently, Myriani had contacted them without a need to show much of her surroundings, so only the part of the mirror that was necessary to show her would be activated.

The atmosphere in the chamber was tense. Electrified. As Dragons stepped aside to let Eragon and Saphira through, he could see their tense motions. There was a thick smell of smoke that almost made him cough. Fire was dancing on the nostrils of many Dragons and their eyes were flashing dangerously. Many had snarls set on their mouths. Saphira let a low snarl of her own, warning them to be calm.

"Eragon…" Yara was among those gathered at the front, Keya standing beside her. She looked at him with a strange mixture of emotions. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Eragon paused. Never had he seen her look so stricken. A pit opened in his stomach. What could have happened to inspire such dread to one of his fiercest warriors? Would she display such mournfulness if Arya was hurt? He made as if to touch her hand.

"Ebrithil" Maenal bowed.

Eragon blinked. He had not realized he had reached the mirror. He snatched his hand back and turned away from Yara. And saw Myriani standing in a treehouse in Du Weldenvarden with her brown Dragon at her side. She shared the same silver hair and dark brown eyes with her brother, Maenal.

She regarded him with a sorrowful look. "Master Eragon." She was one of his eldest Riders. Elves were surprisingly secret about their exact ages. Even he had difficulty in decoding exactly how old his Elf Riders were. But, it was apparent that Myriani was old. Many centuries old. And her calling him Master echoed wrongly in his ears, especially considering all his failures.

"Myriani…" he paused, dreading her words. "What news from Alagaesia?" He could not voice his concern. Why was Arya not the one to contact him? The chamber had gone still, as if everyone present – Riders and Dragons alike- were holding their breaths.

"Master, a week ago we located the remains of one of the hatchlings killed during Blood Feast. It was the grey he-Dragon Heifu, bonded to the Dwarf Brousog. He… I mean the body… was heavily mutilated." Myriani wrung her hands, the memories evidently troubling her.

Sounds of dismay were heard behind Eragon. Not all of his Riders had heard the news it seemed. Saphira let out a low growl and Eragon could sense her foreboding.

"It was located on the northern parts of our forest. As soon I discovered it, I called Arya and Murtagh. They examined the spot and I returned to Ellesmera with the body, while they remained to search the surrounding area. They have not yet found anything, we got a report last night." Eragon loosened his shoulders. He had not realized how tense he was. Relief now flooded through him. "They are both well." Myriani added as if she could sense where Eragon's thoughts had been. She probably did. He found her to be one of the wisest and most perceptive of his Riders.

He nodded in thanks and he heard someone behind him snort in anger. Probably Yara, she had been cold every time someone mentioned Arya in the past, but since Blood Feast she expressed her dislike of the Elven Queen more strongly. Eragon tried to cast his thoughts of Arya out of his mind and focus on the matter Myriani had contacted him to discuss. Arya was safe. That is what mattered. Safe and unharmed…

 _The hatchling Eragon…_ Saphira's voice was filled with sorrow in his mind.

Even though Eragon hated his task, he knew he had to get Myriani's full report. He doubted the elf felt much better to report her findings to him. "In what state was the body, Myriani?"

She lowered her eyes. Her Dragon gently brought his snout closer to her shoulder. "I… find it difficult to describe it. The monster that could so such a thing to a Dragon… A hatching no less." Her voice got a tone of anger. She shook her head. "It would be easier for me to show you."

"Yes, of course." Eragon replied.

Myriani closed her eyes and touched the glass. It was a complicated spell, to show one's memories through a scrying mirror. It required a lot of skill, focus and energy. Eragon suspected that she was using a few Eldunari on her side to help. The surface of the mirror shifted, more of its surface activating. The jewels fitted on the bottom started glowing. And they saw the forest of Du Weldenvarden as Myriani had seen it a week ago.

It was not an experience like scrying, but something much more personal. Like sharing memories mind to mind, sharing a memory thought the mirror conveyed feelings and senses and not just images and sounds. Eragon could sense Myriani's unease from the way her eyes darted around the frost covered trees, her revulsion from the fact she was trying to avoid looking at the body for long and her sorrow from the gentle way she stepped around what could have grown to be a mighty Dragon.

She showed them how she discovered the body, its position on the forest. Shouts and wails echoed all around Eragon. He did not look behind him, but he was certain; tears glistened in the eyes of his students, like they did on his.

When he saw Arya and Murtagh arrive to look at the body and he heard their conversation with Myriani, Eragon felt a stabbing pain in his stomach. The terror of the last few minutes had not entirely left him. As he heard the two Riders decide to search the surrounding forest, a new wave of panic came over him, until he reminded himself that Arya and Murtagh had contacted Ellesmera last night. _And yet they did not contact me._

The memory wavered and Myriani once more appeared before them. She opened her eyes and removed her hand. The memory she had shared with them would be stored in one of the mirror's jewels so that they could analyze it in detail.

"Thank you, Myriani. I…"

A torrent of air brushed his hair and he felt great heat on the back of his neck. He turned around and saw Buztor's raised head as the Dragon unleashed a second torrent of fire towards the roof. It lit the roughhewn stone and made the atmosphere in the chamber even hotter. Grirth laid a hand on his Dragon's side and tried to calm him.

Saphira threw her mind and surrounded the other Dragon's. _Do not do that again, Buztor. You might damage the enchantments in this Hall._ Dragonfire was much more potent than regular fire. It could even damage the mirrors. Eragon made a mental note to place more enchantments to protect the mirror specifically from Dragonfire. He resided in Dragonmount for almost two decades and yet still he discovered things he had overlooked daily.

The Dragon sluggishly turned his head towards Saphira and let out a mournful howl. The other Dragons were agitated as well. Many Riders were sitting on their saddles, ready to take their Dragons out of the Hall should they be unable to contain themselves.

 _I understand your pain. I share it as well._ Shaphira told her student with great sadness. Eragon remembered that Buztor had sired Heifu and he felt Saphira's own pain at the loss of Tirrom.

Buztor blinked at Saphira, his eyes bright, and lowered his head in front of Grirth. The Kull laid his hands gently on either side of his partner's head and then led him out of the Hall.

Eragon turned back to the mirror. "Have you examined the body?"

Myriani nodded. "We did." She sighed. "As expected the body was headless. It also lacked parts of its tail, left wing, one front and one back leg."

Eragon shuddered. "Were you able to determine anything about the nature of the attackers?"

"They were quick and precise and used something sharp. There was no scent or any other trace of them left on the body. They were either very careful or used a clever spell to cover themselves."

"Like specters" Orjeel, one of the Urgal Riders whispered. Eragon turned to look at him and saw his eyes wide and his face more white than grey.

Beside him, Ebba, a female Dwarf with dark hair that reached the soles of her feet, looked at him with horror. "There are stories among my people, of evil spirits that live high on the mountains." Other Dwarves had turned to look at her with furrowed brows. "My grandmother claimed to have seen one. She said it was one with the snow, silent and quick as lightning, with blood coming out of its eyes…"

"My people have stories like that as well." Orjeel interrupted her. "I spoke with my cousin, Wudre, three days ago. She said the attackers reminded her of a story all Urgalagra learn when young. When the dead have found no peace, they rise and thirst for vengeance. It is why the ashes must always be spread the right way and all ceremonies followed carefully. She also claimed that when one faces a specter, never should they use magic due to…"

"I am sure that the attackers are not the characters in one of your fictional stories, meant to scare children!" Yara's voice echoed across the chamber. Her hands were curled in fists and her face was red with anger. "They were flesh and blood and very, very real!" Her blue eyes shone as if on fire.

"I am not saying they weren't real!" Orjeel shouted back at her, his deep voice resonating more than Yara's, filling the cavernous space. "We do not know _who_ they were. Do you?"

"I may not know their identity, but I am certain they were not specters or… spirits of the dead." Yara's distaste for other race's superstitions was evident.

"Until we know all the details we must consider all possibilities." Otkel raised his voice. The Dwarf had been sitting atop his Dragon, but now came to the front, the bells braided in his auburn beard ringing in a high tone.

"We must consider all _feasible_ possibilities." Maenal softly corrected him as he went to stand next to Yara.

"How can we be sure of what is feasible and what not?" Orjeel protested. "Because you have no stories like ours?"

"My people observe the natural world, we study it and try to understand it." Maenal raised his chin, his short cut silver hair glimmering like the mirror behind him. "We do not make up stories for the things we have no explanations for. We do not make monsters out of shadows in the forest or…"

"And yet the monsters did come into your precious forest didn't they, Elf?" Ebba's appearance was the opposite of Maenal as she stood before him. She was of dark hair and bright grey eyes, at least two feet shorter than the tall Elf. And yet her posture possessed the same tension as him. "Two months ago, you would have called it impossible for someone to enter into your precious forest, your capital, without your people's consent. You would have called the wards around Ellesmera the strongest in the world." The Elves gathered in the chamber shifted uneasily. Even Yara lowered her eyes for a moment. "But they were broken weren't they? Your protections." The tone of her voice made Eragon uneasy. "And we faced the worst massacre of Dragons and Riders since the Fall." The horrible truth of her words, made several Dragons huff in sadness.

"We are not debating the danger these attackers pose; the damage they have already inflicted upon us. Only their nature." Yara answered her. "We simply have no proof that leads us to believe they were of a supernatural origin. We must focus on finding any clues we can about their _identity._ Or, if they decide to attack, we will be totally unprepared."

"As unprepared as your people were, Yara?" Ebba's face had darkened. "You are absolutely certain there is no one in Ellesmera with any clues of their identity? That no one knows anything? No Elf? None of your leaders?"

"Enough" Eragon cut her before any Elf had the chance to answer. He looked at Ebba angrily until she averted her eyes. His gaze swept the rest of his Riders and they all fell silent, grief, anger and chagrin mixed in their faces. Eragon may be younger than most of them, born to the lower status of a farmer when some were high-born, but he was still their leader. And through the years, no matter how strange some had initially found this hierarchy, they had accepted it as fact. And no one objected to his order now.

He had heard the whispers. He may have feigned ignorance at times, but there was little going on here in Dragonmount that he was not aware of. Especially after Orik's claims that he was left misinformed about the situation in Alagaesia, he was paying much more attention. So he knew, that there were a few who secretly whispered of Elves involved in Blood Feast. How could it be any different, they said. And who but Elves could have attacked? Once or twice he had heard rumors of Arya's involvement and had carefully seeded false information contradicting them. So far, the rumors had died out. He would not allow his own Riders to fuel them again. Or to start fighting among themselves.

"Enough" he repeated and turned back to Myriani.

She was unable to see everyone in the chamber through her mirror, but she had heard. Her lips were pressed in disapproval. "We have no clues yet as to their identity, Master. But we are still looking. We shall not rest until we do. Even now, our Queen is combing the northern parts of Du Weldenvarden herself." Eragon did not miss her use of the title Queen and not Rider for Arya. He was both pleased and surprised by her show of devotion. "When we do find them, our vengeance won't be as quick as their attack was." She conveyed utter conviction in her speech and even though they had been speaking in the common tongue of Humans, Eragon knew her words carried the same weight as if she had spoken an oath in the Ancient Language.

"Anything else, Myriani you would like to report?" Eragon half wished he had heard her report alone.

She stared at him and then touched her left wrist with her right hand. "So far, I have nothing else to report regarding the attackers."

Eragon nodded. "Then there is no reason to spend more of your energy. Thank you for reporting your findings to us. We will speak again later."

She made the elves' signature for respect and then she disappeared from the mirror. He was left looking at his own reflection. His Riders were crowding behind him. He turned to go.

"Eragon" Yara murmured and came close to him. "What do you think it meant?" she laid a hand on him. "What they did? Should we…?"

"Not now, Yara." He gently peeled her arm away. She looked almost hurt for a moment. "I am tired; I need to rest. I was at the lake." A lie. He had not really done anything at the lake. The Assardi had been the ones to do all the hard work. She gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head. "We will discuss this tomorrow."

He quickly made his way out of the Hall, avoiding any conversation. The Riders had formed groups and were discussing Myriani's report. Some had already spilled outside in the corridor. Eragon ignored them too, but did not fail to notice that Tugdo was not among those that had attended the meeting.

With Saphira, he hurriedly flew back to his rooms. As soon as they touched down on the landing spot he had sung on the side of the mountain, a link on his bracelet went cold. He run to his private room of mirrors and activated one of them, muttering the incantation in the Ancient Language.

Myriani once more appeared before him. "Sorry to keep you waiting." He told her.

"I am sorry, Eragon. Perhaps I should have contacted you directly, I did not realize the unrest the news would cause among the Order."

"Do not apologize. You were right to share the news with everyone."

"Are things that bad, Eragon?" she asked him. A simple question, but he heard the unspoken meaning behind it. Bad enough to turn Rider against Rider?

"There is unrest among us, that much is true." He admitted. "The sooner we find _something_ , the better for all of us. Many Riders came to me and requested to return to Alagaesia, but I refused them for reasons you are well aware of."

"Be careful, Eragon. Some may be anxious to win glory for themselves in fighting. With tales of the heroes of war so fresh, they may find peace dull in comparison. Or they might be too eager to avert another tragedy that they cause one by their actions."

He nodded and they stood for a while, each one lost in their thoughts. The growing unrest among their Order was very worrisome. Eragon had been mulling over it for a while, but no clear method to disperse the tension had been made apparent to him yet.

Saphira brought her head closer to the mirror and nudged Eragon with her mind. "But I forget myself Myriani. You requested this private meeting with me. Was there something else you would like to report? Something that you did not wish to speak of in front of the others?"

"One more thing, Shadeslayer." She hesitated for a moment. "They took the Eldunari."

A wave of nausea came over him. "An Eldunari?". Saphira's dread washed over him, multiplying his own. "Which one?" he almost chocked.

"Heifu's, Master. We found the body without the Eldunari inside."

Eragon looked at her uncomprehendingly. "Heifu's?" he wondered. "What use could it be to them? He was dead already."

"He was dead when we found him, yes." Myriani carefully answered him.

"Do you think he could have transferred his consciousness inside his Eldunari before he died?"

"The attack was too fast, but maybe he managed to do it, fueled by his fear. I was hoping you would know, Eragon."

He tried to remember what the Eldunari had shared with him when they gave him their memories. "It is a fast procedure, certainly. I do not think anyone has ever truly timed it. But… yes. It is possible." His horror was reflected in Saphira's eyes. One of their own, enslaved to these monsters… "Can we track him?" he asked his Rider.

"We can try. I waited to speak with you before doing anything. I could tell Arya and Murtagh of our discovery, if you like. Murtagh proposed that they have no direct contact with Dragonmount while outside of Ellesmera. You never know who might be paying attention and its best we keep our secrets safe."

"He is right." He grudgingly agreed. "You can act as intermediary. Tell them to be careful." He felt a stab of jealousness at the thought of Arya and Murtagh travelling together. He could not help but remember the adventures they had shared during the war. He immediately shook himself. Was he seriously feeling nostalgia for the war? He was becoming as bad as his students. Thirsting for action.

"I almost forgot. They encountered a werecat while searching the forest." Myriani added. "One named Yelloweyes. They said he used to be the one to sit by Nasuada's throne?"

"Yelloweyes?" exclaimed Eragon. He remembered seeing the werecat before leaving Alagaesia. "I didn't know he had left Ileria."

"Nor did we."

"What was he even doing up there?"

Myriani did not seem to find the topic of the werecat that important. "What werecats are normally doing I presume." She shrugged.

 _Maybe we should try to contact Solembum._ Eragon commented to Saphira and felt her agreemet.

When he and Myriani concluded this second meeting, he headed for his and Saphira's bedroom. But the bed held no appeal to him, he was too tense for sleep. Instead he went for his sofa and the low table filled with papers on top. Better to do some work and stop feeling so sorry for himself.


	26. Chapter 23- Arya

**Please review :)  
**

 **Chapter 23 – Arya**

The weather had gotten colder in the two weeks it took them to reach Ceunon. Even as they headed South from the spot they had found Heifu's body, the first snows had begun to fall, freezing the ground and the streams, coating the forest in a white blanket. And that had made their search even more difficult.

Arya and Murtagh had decided to listen to the werecat's advice and head to Ceunon. But, they still combed the forest for any other clues they could find. They searched by air and by foot. They searched the trees and the earth and the memories of the animals they encountered. Wherever they went they also made sure to cast their minds and search for the missing Eldunari of Heifu, since Myriani had informed them of their discovery. Arya had her doubts about whether he had managed to transfer his consciousness, but still they made sure to check.

So far, they had found little more. Nothing as significant as what Myriani had found. Just a few faded memories from several animals of dark figures in the night, running by with great speed and trailing a foul smell. In all instances, pointing towards Ceunon. The terror the animals had felt resonated in Arya's mind. She felt it growing inside her. The terror and dread.

Four days ago they had encountered a male lynx. A rare sight this far south. And rarer still to find it so famished when game was plenty all around. At first Arya had thought it to be ill. But as she examined him she discovered that the animal was simply too terrified to care to its needs. His state was worse than an abused dog that would whimper and cower at every sound.

The lynx' was the most vibrant memory they had found. He had been perched high on a great pine tree, a giant of the forest, when the attackers had passed beneath him. He had dug his nails in the branch and had stood still, petrified of being discovered. The tang of their smell had pierced Arya's nostrils, even though it had been just a memory. Their presence alone had terrified the animal, even though he had made no contact with the attacker. They were dragging something behind them. The lynx had clearly heard them, but had not looked close enough for Arya to pinpoint their numbers. He had just given them a fleeting look, enough for her to see the Tear Knot in one of the dark figure's boot, illuminated by the moon.

It had been the same sign Yelloweyes claimed to have seen as well. When the werecat had heard, his face had shined in triumph. His satisfied smile had stayed on his face even when Arya had put the lynx to sleep, its state so bad that she could do nothing else than put it out of its misery. The werecat's eyes had even looked at the body in interest until Firnen had burned it, preventing the werecat to feast on an animal whose species was close to his own.

She could see the flames every time she closed her eyes. She had insisted on taking most watches every night after that, afraid to face her waking dreams. Murtagh had reluctantly agreed with her, but Yelloweyes had given her one of his usual mocking smiles.

They had searched for a few days more, but, without any further clues, they had reluctantly arrived at the outskirts of Ceunon. And were perched on a hill north of the city, hidden from view among trees and rock boulders.

"Are there any Dragon Riders stationed in Ceunon?" Murtagh asked her. His eyes scanned the city before them.

Arya followed his stare. She had been to Ceunon many times over the years. A beautiful city, build next to the ocean, its timber buildings protected behind tall walls that circled the whole town. She had never thought she would one day feel such dread in coming here and she had not prepared for the obstacle they had encountered.

"As far as I know, no one is stationed here permanently." Arya replied. "And I see no signs that a bonded pair is here now. At least no Dragon…"

Murtagh gave her a sidelong glance. "Do you not monitor all bonded pairs here in Alagaesia?"

"Mostly, yes." She clenched her fists. "But they also answer to the various monarchs and leaders of all races. And first of all, they answer to Eragon. It is possible that a Dragon Rider has been dispatched to Ceunon, for one reason or another, without me knowing it, since I have had, as you very well know, minimal contact with them for the past two weeks."

"You have no way of checking then?"

"Not without alerting everyone of our location. I could contact Myriani again and have her check, but she would likely inform others of our location."

Murtagh sighed. "I thought the days of me sneaking into places were long gone."

"Do you think we should announce ourselves and walk through the front gates?"

"No." he grimaced. "If we do, everyone will know about it within half an hour, even those we seek. That would defeat our purpose." He paused. "Not to mention the various formalities we would be subject to…"

"You are right" Arya agreed. She wondered whether Murtagh would have been so keen on staying anonymous if the trail had led to an Elven city. Or any city not under the control of High Queen Nasuada.

They had not spoken about Nasuada these past two weeks, but Murtagh had become tenser the closer they came to Ceunon. Even now, he was gripping Zarroc's hilt a bit too tight. Thorn also appeared slightly worried. The dragons had remained deeper in Du Weldenvarden, were they were less likely to be spotted. She could see though, through Firnen, that Thorn was agitated from the moment she and Murtagh had left. Neither Rider nor Dragon has so far made any comments.

Truth was, they had hardly spoken at all these past weeks. Instead, they had been focused on their search for clues and any conversation they had, revolved around this topic. She had been very content with it. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about Murtagh. He understood her need for silence and was comfortable with long stretches of it. He never pushed her for words nor did he insist on trying to fill the silence with nonsense.

This trait of his was one of the great differences between Murtagh and Eragon. If it had been Eragon she was travelling with, he would have talked nonstop and she would have developed quite the headache. Still, there had been moments, when she remembered the travels she had shared with Eragon, that she ached to have him by her side. Especially during this crisis.

"It is going to be very difficult to avoid Du Vrangr Gata. They have eyes and ears everywhere." Murtagh suddenly said and turned away from the city.

She followed him down the hill and they made their way to their campsite. Thorn, Firnen and Yelloweyes were waiting for them.

The werecat was in his boy form. He was sitting on the ground and was drawing figures with his finger on a patch of snow that had not yet melted. He lazily raised his head to look at them as they approached. "Found anything interesting?"

"No sign of Dragon Riders." Murtagh went for Thorn's saddlebags.

"So, the city is still standing?" the werecat cocked his head at them. It seemed he had not forgotten their previous accusations about not warning the citizens of Ceunon that the attackers of Blood Feast were heading their way.

"There were no signs of attack." Murtagh got a piece of paper out of his bags and knelt. He got out a quilt and ink and started drawing. "I noticed the symbols carved on the houses. The Tear Knot was indeed very common among them." He drew a Tear Knot on the paper.

Arya knelt on his side. The werecat and the Dragons also came closer to have a better look.

Murtagh continued drawing, making a quick sketch of the city's outline. Arya was greatly impressed by his skills. She had never guessed that the Red Rider would have such an artistic side. "These are very accurately drawn, Murtagh!"

He bowed his head. "Thank you, Arya." He continued looking at the paper. "The city has three main entrances; one of which is facing the sea. The walls are heavily guarded. We will need to use magic if we are to scale them and remain unseen. And then we will risk detection from Du Vrangr Gata."

"Or you could seek the local Lord and ask his help" the werecat remarked. He crouched on the grass and stared at them. "Why try to sneak in the city in the first place?"

Arya glanced at Murtagh, but he kept looking at his map. "We need to remain undetected." She told the werecat. "From the attackers." She added when the werecat raised an eyebrow.

"You suspect one of Nasuada's minions might be behind the attack?"

"We do not know." Murtagh kept drawing, adding more details. "It could have been anyone. The only thing we can be sure of is the fact that it was not one of us."

"Us, as in us five gathered here? Or us, as in us Riders?" the werecat asked.

Murtagh glanced once at the werecat. "No Rider would have taken part in this attack. It is not like the old times, before the Fall. Now each Rider is constantly being monitored, sharing their minds and experiences with others of our Order. If one of us betrays us, we will know."

"That is good to know." Said the werecat in tone that Arya could not decide if it was mocking or not. "Still, as Riders, charged with protecting the land, you could gather the whole population of the city and search their minds. Between the two of you, it would be an easy task."

They had already discussed the impossibility of this plan. "We would not be allowed to do this." Arya reminded Yelloweyes.

"If the Elven Queen and the famous Red Rider asked…"

"We cannot." Arya said with finality. "This land and its people belong to the Varden Kingdom. I, as Queen of the Elves, have no right to search their minds. And Murtagh and I, as Riders, have to ask Queen Nasuada for permission."

"And she will insist Du Vrangr Gata gets involved. And we cannot trust all of them." Murtagh added. "Which is why we need to get into the city and search for any sign of the attackers in absolute secrecy."

"And if you get caught, what then? How will you explain your actions to the High Queen? For she will surely be angry then."

" _If_ we get caught, we will tell her the truth. That our only goal was to find those that killed her son." Murtagh glared at Yelloweyes.

"And what about using magic without her permission? Why not contact her and inform her of your plans?"

 _You seem to have great appreciation for the law._ Thorn lowered his head above the werecat. _And yet, just a few days ago you called Nasuada a great fool for imposing such restrictions on magic users._

Yelloweyes raised his head and tossed his curls behind his ears. "I simply voice the facts. We are searching for those that attacked the Dragon Riders on Blood Feast. Despite the fact that it happened in Ellesmera, it still affects all races. Nasuada's son was among those killed. So, for her, I imagine it is more than a matter of duty to seek punishment for those responsible. Why then, does Queen Arya and Murtagh Argetlam, intent to search through the Human lands without permission, ignoring the law for complete monitoring of every magic user?"

"We have already discussed this." Arya argued. "Nasuada would understand."

"Would she, your Majesty? Are you certain?" the werecat stood from his crouching position, his cheeks flushed in anger. "Do you also agree with her? Are you grafting the same laws for your people?"

"That is not part of our conversation." Arya's voice had gotten cold. "It is not my place to judge Nasuada's methods of governance."

"Is it not? Are you simply going to accept them and subject yourself to them? Why not boldly proclaim your intentions and openly search for the attackers as is your right and duty, instead of sneaking around like rats?"

 _For reasons we have already discussed, little cat._ Firnen's voice resonated with anger. _You've become quite repetitive. Why so intent on discussing what other race leaders think of Nasuada's laws on magic?_

"We were not discussing all the other races." The werecat took a step back, readying himself for a fight. "And do you think the other leaders agree with her as you seem to?"

"Galbatorix did. He meant to use other methods though." Murtagh softly said, his eyes intent on Yelloweyes. "You sat next to Nasuada through every one of her conferences for years. You very well know that if Arya wished, she could have done as Galbatorix intended. She shares the knowledge he was so desperately pursuing. But she hasn't. There must be a good reason for that." He and the werecat stared at each other for a few moments, something unspoken passing between them.

 _Is this why Murtagh is avoiding Nasuada?_ Arya wondered. _Is he reminded of Galbatorix every time he looks at her? Whenever he thinks of her seat of power, her title, her throne?_ Arya had often wondered about the relationship between the Red Rider and the High Queen. She and Murtagh had never discussed it, but suddenly she felt she had found a piece of this puzzle.

And she found she did not like thinking about it too hard. For what did it say about her own feelings and actions? Was it possible that she had been reacting the same way towards Eragon? Placing his face on the horror she had endured at the hands of Humans? A horror he had actually liberated her from?

Yelloweyes eventually huffed and turned away from them. "Well then, I guess we need a solid plan if we are to enter Ceunon undetected."

Arya shook herself out of her thoughts, trying to focus.

"I can go and scout ahead of you." The werecat offered, taking Arya by surprise.

 _I imagine you will be quite recognizable._ Firnen warned.

"I am not a fool; I'll enter the city in my animal form."

 _Still, any who had seen you next to Nasuada will immediately recognize you._

 _I doubt they will._ Thorn commented. _The will remember a werecat three time his current size. And with a much shinier coat._

Yelloweyes puffed his chest at that. "My coat is shiny enough."

 _Not as shiny as the time you were lounging on velvet cushions all day long._

"It is a good idea." Murtagh interrupted. "Try to find out where the shoe makers have their shops. It is not a great lead, but it's the best we have."

"And be careful of other werecats, they might recognize you" Arya added.

"My brethren might be of help. They will not reveal our presence here if I ask them to keep it a secret."

"Do not mention the fact that you are travelling with Murtagh and I, unless you are absolutely certain they will not betray us." She warned him.

Yelloweyes bowed his head at her and without another word, he morphed into a ginger cat and leaped in the direction of the city and out of view.

Arya turned to Murtagh. "Are you sure we can trust him?"

"I believe we can. Despite what he said, I think his wish to remain unnoticed by Nasuada is greater than ours. He has not yet mentioned the reason he left Ilirea, has he?"

"No, but perhaps it was not an important reason. Maybe he got bored. Nasuada has never mentioned having a fallout with him, nor have I heard anything of this kind."

"Maybe. At least we have little to lose even if he does betray us. What's the worst that could happen? Nasuada learns of our intentions, but we have not done anything wrong." He gave her an almost mischievous smile. "Yet."

Arya shared a smile with him. "No. Not yet." She rose from her kneeling position. "I am going to look for something we can eat."

"I'll make a fire" Murtagh replied to her.

She turned and went deeper into the forest. Snow crunched beneath her boots in places under the tree's where the sunlight had not reached yet. The weather had been clear for the past three days, melting the snow that had fallen. Still, the morning air was chilly and she muttered a spell to warm her hands.

As she walked, she searched the ground for roots that were edible. Here in the outskirts of the forest, the Elves' magic was weakened, playing a lesser role in the forest's growth. Near their cities, vegetables were being grown year round, but here, she was most likely to find mainly fungi this time of the year. They still had a few dried fruit and bread in their supplies, but something fresh was always a welcome change. They could always hunt; she had felt a herd of deer to their North. But that was something she refused to do, and Murtagh had refrained from hunting as well, with the exception of the two deer he had caught yesterday for the two Dragons.

In fact, she was surprised by how easy it had been to travel with Murtagh. She had not seen him for several years and their contact after the War had been sparse. When he had returned to Alagaesia, after Galbatorix's Fall, they had spent some time together, and she had grown to like him. Every time he returned, he always spent some time in Ellesmera and she had even given him a scrying mirror, connected to her own, so that they could talk in case of emergency. They had been enemies during the War, and she was glad they were now allies.

Still, every time she saw him, he gave the impression that he was after something. Never standing still, always travelling, and searching for new things. He had shown no interest in staying here and keeping the peace and he had not stayed in Dragonmount either. She was surprised by the dedication he was showing now, with this new threat, as she had feared he was seeing himself separate from other Riders, not caring about what they did or what happened to them. Yet he had travelled back to help and he was helping her in her search.

She sensed something different to him now. As if he needed this sense of purpose. It was not, she thought, that he was seeking danger and the thrill of battle, since he was among those most scarred by the War. There were times when they reminisced about the past, when he would grow dark and retire into himself. She was sure he did not wish to relieve those times nor was he desperately trying to prevent another war. Instead, he appeared centered, more confident, calmer that she had even seen him. Almost like he was prepared to face whatever came his way. Unlike her, who felt more jittery as time went by and still they had no clues.

She spotted something wilted in the base of a tree and crouched to examine it. Determining it edible, if not entirely in season, she dug it out and looked around for some more. There were a few mushrooms nearby, small, with yellow stems. She moved to grab them as well.

As she worked, she kept her mind open and examined the life around her. They had discussed of the possibility of Heifu managing to transfer his soul into the gem before he died. They both agreed that it was not very likely. It was more probable that the attackers had wanted a piece of the Dragon. For spoils or any other use they could possibly want it for. They had not yet located the remains of the other three Dragons, and their Eldunari might be missing as well.

The fact that the attackers had known to search for the Eldunari in the first place, was worrying enough. Their existence and the role they had played during the War was still kept secret. Most of them had been transferred to Dragonmount with Eragon, but they kept a few here in Ellesmera and when Riders came to Alagaesia they were always accompanied by one or two. They provided Riders with extra energy when that was needed and they enjoyed travelling after being locked up after so many years.

Arya had not brought any with her, nor had Murtagh, and she was glad for that decision after Myriani's report. They did not want to become a target, if Eldunari was what the attackers were after nor did she want to endanger any of them. She had ordered for the protection of the Eldunari to be doubled and every Rider was on high alert.

Suddenly, she became aware of a dim disturbance not far from her. Instantly, she focused her mind in that direction, while strengthening the wards around her mind. Slowly, she rose, the roots and mushrooms she had gathered falling on the ground. She could not see anything, but there was something…

 _There!_ She took a step forward and shot her mind towards the threat.

And found a pair of angry male squirrels fighting.

For a moment she stood frozen in shock. She held the animals frozen with her mind, searching for another threat that could have tipped her off. But found nothing.

She let out a breath and tried to relax her tense muscles. _Stupid,_ she thought. _Like a Human female left alone in the woods for the first time._ She let the animals go and they scattered away in fright, making frightened noise that echoed in the forest.

 _More shadows grow here than they used to._ Not so long ago, no place had felt to her as safe as the great forest of Du Weldenvarden. _Until they attacked us in our capital city. For the first time and it happened during my reign…_ She shook her head trying to dispel her dark thoughts.

She gathered the food she had managed to find and looked around for some more. Better to calm down before returning to the others. Firnen would be able to sense her mood, but there was no need to let Murtagh and Thorn know how jittery she had become in her own forest. _Get it together._

Something crouched under her left foot. A shudder went through her. She was old enough to know what she had stepped on without looking. _Bones._

With a sigh she looked down and saw bones indeed littering the ground. She gingerly took a step back and examined them a bit closer. The limb they had been attached to had not completely disintegrated. There were still scales visible surrounding it. Blue scales.


	27. Chapter 24- Arya

**I am sorry I have not uploaded for so long! But the Fork, the Witch, and the Worm came out and I had the biggest writer's block, trying to decide if I should put some elements into this story or not. Please tell me what you think, because I have not yet fully decided what to do...**

 **Thanks to everyone for their kind words and reviews.**

 **I promise I'll l try to be a bit more consistent in the future and upload more chapters without this big a gap between them.**

 **Chapter 24- Arya**

Murtagh made no sound as he run through the forest, his passing so swift, that he caused no noticeable disturbance. Arya knew of his presence only by the drumming feeling of his thoughts. Even in her upset state she turned to look at him approaching, marveling at his skill of moving so gracefully in the forest, one that he had no doubt developed in the years he had spent wandering alone in the wilderness.

His eyes caught hers and gave her a quick scan, checking for any signs of an attack. She had sent him a quick message that she had found something important and an image of her position. Even though she had made no other explanations, other than for him to join her and he had reacted to her request immediately. As he approached her now, she pointed to her discovery on the ground beside her.

He stopped before her, his eyes scanning the ground, fingering the hilt of his sword. She felt his unease; a mirror to her own, which was in turn echoed in Firnen.

Arya had opened her mind to her Dragon and could feel his and Thorn's distress as they stayed in the clearing were they were camping. Being so close to the city, they dared not fly, especially in daylight, in case someone spotted them. The forest was also dense enough to prevent them from easily walking without causing damage in the forest or needing the help of magic, which might in turn be spotted from nearby magicians.

"Well, now there is no doubt." Murtagh sighed. "The attackers certainly passed this way." He crossed his arms. "Is this from one of the front legs?"

"I think so." She replied. "He was a young Dragon, the bones not yet fully formed, so I cannot be entirely sure." _And it wouldn't matter anyways, what part of him they left behind. He is still dead._ "It is a small body part, like those we found of Heifu's, scattered in the forest, away from the rest of the body."

Murtagh nodded, his chin set in anger. "Tirrom." He muttered.

"Yes." She whispered. For the pale blue scales unmistakably matched the dead hatchling's color. Firnen let a piercing howl in her mind at Murtagh's declaration.

Murtagh let an angry huff of his own. "What were they doing? We are far enough from Ellesmera, now. They carried the body all this way and then tore it apart here, leaving pieces behind so carelessly? For what purpose?"

"I do not know." Arya answered him, her own confusion growing. "This could have been another group, different from the one that carried Heifu, as that one had headed north for many miles before turning back south. Maybe this group headed straight for Ceunon and did the same to Tirrom here."

"We should look around then; they might have left the body nearby." An unlikely prospect since they had searched around already. It was by chance that they had missed this body part. If a corpse was nearby, they would have known.

"But first, we should burn these." Murtagh muttered in the Ancient Language and tongues of bright red flames engulfed the bones. It was instantly over, the magic leaving no smoke and no trace other than a few scattered ashes behind. Arya blinked and looked over at her companion. But he had already turned away from her and was looking for more traces, his hand tightly gripping Zarroc.

 _Careful,_ Firnen whispered in her mind.

Arya followed behind Murtagh. They searched carefully in a radius around their campsite without success. All seemed normal in the forest. They did not dare venture too far away and as the sun begun to set they decided to return to their camp.

The Dragons were curled on the ground, their tails swinging and their eyes gleaming dangerously. The setting sun reflected on their scales and cast rainbow hues in the clearing. The sight almost made Arya stop in her tracks. There were few things more frightening than a quietly angry Dragon. Not to mention two of them.

Arya went to Firnen, the Dragon's eyes following her.

 _No other traces?_

 _Nothing more,_ she answered him and laid a hand on his snout. His green eyes seemed to glow and his nostrils were alight with fire with every breath he took. _We will find them,_ she tried to comfort him. She did not like the mood that had descended upon him.

 _Will we? We do not even know who or what we are looking for,_ he huffed, setting the grass in front of Arya's feet on fire.

She gasped and took a quick step back. The green flames had grazed her boots and she hastily doused them with a spell. _Firnen!_ She complained. _Be careful!_

The Dragon shook his head and turned away from her. She could sense the darkness of his emotions, but he had blocked her from reading his thoughts. "Firnen" she called aloud, but still he did not look at her and instead gouged his nails deep in the ground.

"The hatchling, Tirrom." Murtagh said softly. Arya turned to him and found both Murtagh and Thorn studying them. "You were his sire, weren't you?"

Firnen turned his head slowly and opened his mind to answer. _I was. And I was there when he was killed._ His voice was filled with sorrow. And guilt. _And I did nothing._

"You have my condolences; I fear I have not yet given them formally. I ask for your understanding. Eragon did tell me Saphira's egg was among this year's hatchlings, but with everything going on…"

 _Do not apologize Rider. It is enough that you are here to assist us now, in this time of need._ Arya could feel Firnen's sincerity. He truly was thankful for Murtagh's and Thorn's presence.

 _Dark are the times when we must grieve for the death of one of our own._ Thorn answered. _At least this time it was not done by one of us. This threat we can- and must- face together._

Arya was surprised by the depth of emotion in Thorn's mind. He was usually extra cautious when speaking, so that Arya could only glimpse the outskirts of his thoughts. Now she could almost feel a deep well of anger and grief. She found herself nodding along his words.

"We should inform the others of this" Murtagh murmured. He looked at Firnen. "Would you like to inform Saphira?"

The green Dragon shook his head. _We said we would not contact Dragonstone directly for safety reasons. This discovery has not changed that reasoning._

"We should still inform Ellesmera." Arya said.

Murtagh shot her a questioning look. "We should still be careful not to disclose our location. Did you not say that other Elves might be able to judge our location if they see the vegetation around us?"

"There are some capable of this. Many Elves have spent centuries wondering in the forest and know almost every tree in Du Weldenvarden. Which is why I will not contact all the Riders stationed in Ellesmera directly, but rather a trusted friend."

Murtagh held a guarded expression as Arya searched in her bags and found a small silver hand mirror, whose handle was decorated with twisting vines. Three small chips of jade set on the back were infused with the necessary energy for her to perform the spell. She stood next to Murtagh, with Firnen and Thorn filling the space behind them. Nothing was visible of the area around them. She trusted Ruvaen, but it was still best not to take any chances.

She did not have to wait long for him to appear in her mirror. "Your Majesty!" he exclaimed. Her mirror was connecting to a similar hand held mirror he possessed. She could make out the carvings on the walls of his private rooms behind him. "Shurtugal!" he nodded to Murtagh. Ruvaen noted Firnen and Thorn's stiff postures and his brow furrowed in worry. "Are you all right?"

"We are well, Ruvaen. There is no need for concern. We…have found part of another Dragon's body. Tirrom's this time" She tried to be as brief as possible. As one of her advisors, she doubted Ruvaen would approve of their plan to infiltrate Ceunon undetected.

"The one bonded to Queen Nasuada's son?"

"Yes. We found part of his front leg, scattered in the forest."

"Near the spot the body of the grey male was found?" Ruvaen asked her.

She almost snorted at his comment, recognizing his attempt to pinpoint their location. She had contacted him directly a few days ago, when Murtagh had left to hunt with Thorn. Ruvaen had plagued her with questions then as well and it had not been easy to evade them. "To the south." She told him. "We have searched the surrounding area, but found no other clues."

"Would you like me to dispatch someone to aid you in your search?"

He had asked that before, and she had already refused. "There is no need." She told him of the placement of the bones and their condition. Details he would then share with the Riders stationed in Ellesmera.

"I shall pass on this information, Arya Dröttning." Ruvaen bowed his head at her. For a moment, they stood silent and she found herself lost on the softness of his lips and the way the light made his silver hair shine.

Ruvaen glanced at Murtagh. "I was planning on contacting you myself soon. A message came from Queen Nasuada."

Arya felt Murtagh tense beside her. "How fares the Queen of the Varden?" she asked her advisor. She might be away from Ellesmera, but she did not forget her position as Queen. If Nasuada had sent an official message, then she had to reply to her formally. And rather carefully, considering their plans.

"The Queen is still grieving. It was her trusted advisors, Elva and Trianna that contacted us, through the mirror we have connected with one of theirs. I did not speak with the Queen directly, but Elva said she is anxious for any news concerning the attackers. Should we inform her of this discovery of yours?" Ruvaen asked Arya.

She felt Murtagh's mind graze hers in warning. "Ask one of the Riders in Ellesmera to contact Dane. He can inform the Queen." Ruvaen bowed his head, his mouth set grim. Murtagh slightly relaxed at her side.

It was the best solution they had. If she was to contact Nasuada directly she would have to return to Ellesmera and use the mirror stationed there, as no other mirror would work with the wards set around the forest. Which was doubtless what Ruvaen was hoping for. Unless she left the safety of the wards and found another mean to contact Nasuada. The Queen would not look kindly though, to Arya's use of unapproved magic to contact her directly since they already had an established connection.

For a moment she felt immense guilt and doubt. What was she doing? Trying to infiltrate another allied kingdom? She was the Queen of the Elves; her position did not allow her such stupid plans. If she was caught… Panic filled her mind and for a moment she was lost for words.

"Was there anything else Elva said?" Murtagh asked.

And Arya realized that she had left the outer walls of her mind still open and Murtagh had sensed some of her discomfort. Quickly, she raised the walls around her mind, retreating deeper in herself. She did not like anyone being aware of her doubts.

Ruvaen had turned his attention to Murtagh. "Yes, Shurtugal. She left a message for you, from her Queen." Ruvaen's voice held a tone of contempt. "Queen Nasuada requested your visit. Elva insisted that she wishes to see you as soon as possible."

Murtagh slightly raised an eyebrow. "Did you remind her that I was away from Ellesmera?"

"I did. She insisted on her request. She says the Queen has gone to her Summer Estate. Morzan's old stronghold. She… wishes you go to her there."

Murtagh gave no reaction to the mention of his father. He seemed more upset with Nasuada's requests. "Our work here is too important for me to pay a visit to Nasuada right now! Did you tell her that I am helping in the search for the attackers of Blood Feast? Did you remind her…"

"I am no message boy for the Queen of the Varden. I told Elva I will inform you of her Queen's wishes and no more." Ruvaen interrupted Murtagh's angry rant. He turned to Arya. "When can we expect you back in Ellesmera your Majesty?" There was anger in his eyes, all pretense gone.

Arya was taken aback by his tone. She knew him to always be calm and collected, a trait all members of her race excelled at. To lose his composure now, when addressing his Queen in front of a Rider of another race, was a worrying clue to his general frustration.

Arya felt her own composure failing and she coldly replied to him. "Soon." Ruvaen opened his mouth to argue, but she did not let him. "I will contact you again when we have more clues." And with a nod, she severed their connection. The last thing she saw was Ruvaen's stiff expression. _Let him be angry. He has no right to order me around._ _I am his Queen, and I will do what is best for my people, no matter the cost._

She angrily turned around and tucked the mirror in Firnern's saddle bags. Murtagh and Thorn also retreated. Murtagh stoked the fire and Arya remembered the plants she had gathered for their meal. In silence Arya and Murtagh prepared them and sat down to eat. It was a sorry meal, without any season or much effort put in the cooking. But it was enough.

As night deepened, the Dragons curled around their Riders. Murtagh and Thorn appeared to be having a mental conversation. He would glance at his Dragon and Thorn had huffed more than twice.

Firnen was deep in thought. He kept thinking of the dead hatchling, his mood so dark Arya kept her mind slightly detached from his. She was aware though, that his thoughts kept coming back to Saphira. And the more he thought of Saphira, the more Arya thought of Eragon. And that was a dark path she did not want to take.

She contemplated meditating while they waited for the werecat to return. She closed her eyes and tried to relax as she was had done for more than a century when darkness gathered in her mind. She decided to think of the blooming gardens of her family's home, in an effort to feel better.

There was a rose plant one of her father's cousins created last spring. With pure white flowers speckled with gold. He had faced problems with the stem she recalled. He had intended to make it gold as well, but it had turned out white. Or was it silver?

A loud angry growl echoed around her.

Without thinking, Arya was instantly on her feet, a dagger in both hands and words of power on her tongue.

Only there was no one to fight. Just Thorn and Murtagh, facing each other, an angry expression on both faces. Thorn's lips pulled back as he growled once more.

It took Arya a few moments to realize that Dragon and Rider were having an argument. She stood watching as they continued to silently communicate, trying to calm her racing heart. Firnen gently touched her mind.

 _I was startled, that is all,_ she told him.

 _Do not worry little one. There is no danger, you can put your blades away._

Arya looked at the daggers in her hands. She had forged them herself a few years ago under the supervision of Rhunon. There were both of simple design, their hilts sung from the strongest pine and their blades made from Rhunon's special blend of steel. Their beauty lay in the color of their blades. A shimmering green, meant to resemble the color of Firnen's scales and to replicate the same effect when light hit them. Arya stared at the dancing light of the fire reflected on them.

She had forged them in a time of peace, as a tool fit for her new station. How proud she had been to feel them fit so perfectly in her hands. How beautiful they had seemed; how deadly.

She quickly put them away. In her haste, the blades made a piercing noise that made Murtagh jump in alarm. Arya turned her back on him and reached for her flask of sweet mead.

"Sorry" Murtagh said. "We didn't mean to alarm you."

Arya took a big gulp with her back still turned away. She felt its warmth spread inside her body and wash away the tremble in her hands. She took another, before turning to look at her companions, the flask still in her hands, held tight. "It is alright. We were not at fault. It is just…"

Thorn's gaze was piercing her. The Dragon was still angry, although she doubted it was directed at her. "I am a bit jumpy. After…"

"I know." Murtagh sighed. Thorn gave him another angry look, as the Rider moved closer to the fire and produced a flask of his own. He sat down, with his feet stretched and took a gulp. He did not seem to wish to discuss what his fight with Thorn was about. Arya and Firnen did not press the matter. They had been dealing with Dragons and their Rider for long enough to know never to intervene when they were having an argument. And they trusted Murtagh and Thorn. If it was something about their mission, they would share it. If not… _They could be fighting over anything. Even the position of Thorn's saddle…_

Arya felt Firnen's own dark thoughts and disapproval as she had another drink. So she joined Murtagh near the fire and tried to ignore the Dragon's stares. For a while they drunk in silence, making sure the fire burned strong, as night fell and a piercing chill descended around them.

"This faelnirv is excellent." Murtagh was looking at his flask with a slight smirk. "I think there is some herb in here I have not tasted before." He said as he took a sniff.

"Probably." She replied, smiling. "Could be one from Dragonmount. My people are a bit too excited with the new plants being discovered there." The mead she was having was one of the Dwarve's finest. At least that was something she could be proud of, she thought. That during her reign, the relationship between Elves and Dwarves was close and trade between them was blooming.

"Yes, I noticed their excitement." Murtagh laughed. "The Elf that gave me my supplies for this trip, mentioned at least four times that some of the dried berries are a new variety from the East. Sweet as honey and twice as healthy as apples. He also mentioned apples quite a lot…" Murtagh frowned at that, but that made Arya laugh.

"Was his name Olid?"

"I think so, yes."

"No wonder he talked about apples! He has dedicated much of his life to them."

"Apples?" Murtagh laughed, and Arya recognized his sudden desire for small talk as a means to escape the darkness for a while.

She thankfully went along with it. "Yes! He actually has the most beautiful of gardens. And he grows them all year round. The majority of apples we consume comes from him"

"Mmm" Murtagh gave a smirk. "He seems to have found a new passion, though. You should be careful, or your people might run out of apples to eat."

"Well, if he has, I doubt he will abandon his apple trees, he has grown too close to them. He is fascinated by the new discoveries, but he has not yet asked permission to travel to Dragonmount, preferring to hear the stories others bring back. Even if did decide to stop growing apples, I doubt I could do much about it."

"He needs your permission to travel to Dragonmount? You could refuse him."

"I could not. It is more of a formality, to ensure Dragonmount is not overtaken with just one race. But, I cannot stop someone from travelling there without reason. My people would never stand for it. If I start doing that, I would not be Queen for much longer." She gripped her flask tighter.

She felt the effect of the alcohol in her. She realized her tongue had loosened. And yet a sudden desire almost overwhelmed her. Her troubles almost drowning her. She had to confide in someone or she would break apart. And who better than Murtagh? He did not care about the politics of this land. He would likely take off again soon, travelling at his pleasure, free of restrains, while her chains would tighten and burn her. "You have heard, I am sure, the various comments." She whispered.

Murtagh solemnly looked at her and nodded.

She took his silence as an invitation to continue. "Many are doubting me. The very same that asked me to be their Queen now doubt me. More and more are voicing concern that my duties as Queen and Rider do not go together. More and more are asking that I choose one or the other."

"You are a Rider. That will never change." Murtagh forcefully declared. Arya wondered if that had hit closer to home than she thought. If he understood her struggle and that was why he had been supporting her these past weeks. "I thought Elves understood the bond between Riders and Dragons. And its purpose. I never thought they would be as irrational as Humans."

And suddenly it clicked for her. One of the reasons he did not stay in Illeria. She was so very stupid for not realizing it earlier. For what would a Queen who hated magic think of a magical bond between the one she loved and a Dragon? Nasuada had been opposed to the idea of her son becoming a Dragonrider, but for some reason Arya had never associated that behavior with the Human Queen's relationship with the Red Rider.

She felt Firnen's agreement. _Be careful how to handle this Arya. Whatever relationship he has with Nasuada, she is still Queen and you a monarch of an allied race._

 _Murtagh and I belong to the same Order. We can trust him._

She turned her attention back to the Red Rider. "Do you think Humans fear us?" she carefully asked him.

It took a while for Murtagh to answer. "Their hatred of magic grows stronger every year. We represent magic. Nasuada…"

Arya was silent, afraid to destroy the fragile balance they were treading.

"I do not like it Arya." Murtagh almost exploded in anger. She slightly pulled back in surprise. "I do not like her schemes at all." He turned to look at her then. His face alight with anger. "As soon as I heard her son to be chosen, I came back. I feared she would never let him go. That she would do something to take him away from the Dragon. To break their bond no matter the cost."

Arya did not like the implications what he was suggesting. "Murtagh… She would not." Nasuada had come to her. Had asked for the bond to be broken. But she would never have taken action on her own. If anything, the risk to her son would have been too great. And Nasuada had adored the boy with all her heart.

Murtagh gave a dark laugh. "Oh, she would. Arya, she would."

"You do not know that."

"I do though. I do. It would not be the first time. If you had heard the things she suggested to me when…" Thorn gouged his nails in the ground and Murtagh caught himself.

Arya quickly checked the wards around the camp. It would be disastrous if anyone heard them here, this close to the Human Lands. Nasuada was revered, any comment against her was sure to reach her ears.

 _What?_ Firnen suddenly insisted, bringing his face closer. _What did Nasuada suggest?_ But Murtagh lowered his eyes and simply took another drink.

Firnen turned to Thorn. _Nasuada has…strange ideas,_ was the Red Dragon's reply.

"What she suggested…" Murtagh said, looking Firnen in the eyes. "I could not give her." And with that he turned away once more.

Arya placed a hand on Firnen, stalling his next question. It would be wrong of them to push Murtagh. And she did not think she wished to get between him and Nasuada. Whatever had happened between them, was not her business. It was a matter of the heart and it would be best she stayed away from it. So they dropped the subject and let silence engulf them once more.

 _At least we know for sure that Murtagh was not the one who sired Sipho,_ Firnen mused.

 _Yes, I do not think it was him,_ Arya replied.

Nasuada had never publicly announced her heir's father. A loyal subject had been her only remark to her people. And they had strangely accepted it. Humans, with all their ideas of purity and marriage, had accepted an affair from their Queen outside of wedlock. Another sign as to the hold Nasuada had over them. The things they would forgive her. The thought made Arya feel uncomfortable.

 _What do you think happened to the father?_ Firnen asked.

 _What do you mean?_

 _You think he is still alive?_

 _Why wouldn't he be? I don't think…_

Murtagh was suddenly on his feet, his attention focused on something in the forest.

Arya joined him. There was something moving towards them. She carefully speared her mind in that direction.

To find the werecat returning.

Yelloweyes appeared at the edge of their camp in his animal form. His eyes bright with satisfaction.

 _Found anything, little cat?_ Thorn asked.

 _Only the best opportunity for us to enter Ceunon, big lizard._

"When?" Arya asked briskly. She had no patience for the werecats teasing remarks.

"In three days, Arya Dröttning. During the celebration for the death of Galbatorix."


	28. Chapter 25- Ismira

**Please review ;)  
**

 **Chapter 25 – Ismira**

When Ismira's parents were married, Queen Nasuada gifted her mother, Katrina, with a chest full of precious gems and jewelry as a dowry. After the Fall of Galbatorix, when her parents returned to their home with their people, that chest of wealth was put to good use. Almost every single item was used and sold to help finance the rebuilding of Carvahall. Her mother kept but a few select pieces. Those that she liked best; not the ones with the greatest value, for she knew those had to be sold.

Among those items Katrina kept, was a simple pendant necklace made of red coral stone. It was round and not very big, but is was adorned with a delicate network of golden flowers on its face. It was one of Katrina's favorites. She would often wear it and it would mark her as the Lady of Palancar Valley, Katrina Firesoul, as people were calling her. She who had endured the Razac's tortures and she who had stayed by her husband's side until Galbatorix was defeated, even with a baby in her womb. She who stayed devoted, loyal and brave. She who led her people through hardship with unwavering faith and a pure heart.

When Ismira was young, she would walk beside her mother through the streets of Carvahall and she would note the admiration and devotion on people's faces. She would stare at the pendant hanging on her mother's chest and marvel at the intricacy and yet simplicity of its design. She would play with it, whenever her mother held her in her lap.

When she was six, Ismira had caught a sickness after playing in the freezing river for too long, against her parents' orders. She had been plagued with fever, vomiting and a terrible cough. It was still the early years of Nasuada's reign, and all magicians had been called to the capital to swear allegiance to the Queen, to her laws about magic and to Du Vrangr Gata. Ismira had lay in bed for nine days, before a magician had arrived in Carvahall to heal her.

All those days, her mother had not left her side, hardly eating or speaking. She had stood over her, counting her breaths, unable to help her child, who was slowly losing consciousness. On the ninth day, Ismira had was no longer responding to her mother's voice. The only signs of life Katrina had been able to notice were swallow breaths, a fading heartbeat and her daughter's blank stare occasionally catching the necklace she was wearing. So she removed the necklace from her neck, placed it over her daughter's heart and she prayed on every God she knew of to heal her child.

And when she prayed to all of them, she started over. And over.

She was on her ninth repeat, praying to the Dwarven Goddess Kilf, that the door had opened and the magician that would save her daughter's life arrived.

Katrina never wore the pendant again. She put it aside, for she believed it had been her vanity that had almost cost her her firstborn child. From then on, Katrina would loudly proclaim that her children were her gems, her people her jewels. She had placed the necklace in a box, to keep safe until the time would come when Ismira would be able to wear it with care.

Ismira had almost forgotten about it, until her mother fetched it from her chambers when she was nine years old. Katrina had given it to her with trembling hands. _To protect you and remind you of home,_ she had told her daughter between her wails. Ismira had been too shocked from seeing her mother crying to feel anything about being given such a precious gift. She had simply clutched at the necklace as she left her home to become a Dragonrider.

And she had often worn it her early years on Dragonmount, when she was homesick. Countless times she would cry herself to sleep while staring at it, trying to recall her mother's touch and the smell of her hair.

Lately, she had been keeping it at the bottom of a drawer. She was more often wearing other, more practical jewels. Those that were able to be infused with energy or others she had enchanted for a specific purpose through her studies. Her mother's pendant held a more sentimental value, so it had been more than a year since she wore it last.

Today, though, she dug it out of her drawer and wore it over her beige tunic, visible for all to see. For most it would be just an ordinary jewel, no different than any other a Rider might wear. But for those that saw it and recognized it, it would hold a special meaning.

She contemplated also wearing the dragon pin on her hair, the one with the sapphire eyes.

 _Too much,_ Itha said disapprovingly.

 _Mmmm,_ Ismira dug through her collection. _The pin with the Tear Knot of Ceunon? Uncle Horst finished his training there; this was a gift from Lord Holian for my sixth birthday._

 _The pendant will do. We have work to do today, wear your hair in a simple braid._

"Fine" Ismira sighed. "What time is it?"

 _If you do not finish quickly, we are going to be late!_ Itha was waiting in the garden, impatiently waving her tail around, flattening the grass. Ismira quickly finished with her hair and went to join her.

As soon as she was sited atop her Dragon, Itha unfurled her wings and with three mighty strokes rose to the sky. Their rooms were facing south, towards the desert. Below them Ismira could see the gardens adjacent to the rooms of her fellow students. All were empty but the one belonging to Emery and Boldrer. The brown Dragon was waiting for his Rider. He raised his head and sent a thought in greeting. Ismira relaxed her wards somewhat to receive it and greet him in return. Itha did likewise, but did not wait for him to join her in the sky.

As they climbed higher and higher, in order to fly over the mountains and into the Main Grounds behind them, the marks of habitation slowly disappeared, until the face of the mountains looked as wild and rugged as it would have if Dragonriders did not inhabit it. Even the brown shine of Boldrer's scales blended in without a trace. The effect was a mix of magical illusions and the Riders' ingenuity when designing their home, making sure to blend all features with the surrounding land when possible.

Itha quickly passed over the tip of the mountain, which was flecked with fresh snow, and started to lower her altitude. This side of the mountain was a bit chillier, since the hot wind from the desert did not reach it. The change in the microclimate of the mountains was apparent in its flora. The white mountain daisy only grew on this side.

Ismira had used on of the rooms on this side in her earlier years on Dragonmount. It was located on a higher altitude and had a huge opening with magnificent views over the Main Grounds and the city. It had been designed by Dwarves and it was there Ismira had first met and befriended Hilda, as their rooms were next to each other. As Ismira's training progressed, she took a liking to the Elven style and had stayed in a treehouse for a year. Finally, she had settled for her current rooms, designed with a mixed style.

As Itha flew by the Students' rooms, Ismira tried not to look at her friend's old room. She knew she would find it empty. Abandoned. She also tried not to look too much to the left, were the great southern peak marked Master Eragon's private residence. Instead, she focused ahead, where Maior was leisurely flying in circles near the small gate on the western side of the Main Grounds.

Mistress Keya was waiting for them by the gates, talking with Glas and his Dragon. In front of Itha, Lotte's orange female was just landing. Itha quickened her pace, wanting to reach them before Boldrer, who was quickly coming from behind them.

Ismira quietly exhaled. They were not late, as Itha had feared.

As her Dragon landed, Keya gave them a satisfied smile. Ismira pretended not see, as she dismounted. They had set a score for being late on multiple occasions these past weeks. Every single one of their teachers had commented on it, even if it was not their lesson they were late for. Itha was mortified every time it happened, quick to vent her frustration on Ismira, blaming her for her tardiness. They had fought about it often.

Today, Ismira wished to spare her Dragon any anguish, so she gave Itha's copper snout a gentle stroke and briskly walked towards Keya, bracing herself. "Ebrithil", she said.

"Ismira, Itha, good morning." _Glad you could join us on time,_ Ismira thought her teacher's next comment would be. But the jeer never came. Instead Keya welcomed Emery and Boldrer, who had just landed, before addressing all four pairs before her. "We will be going through the Tunnel. It is too narrow for you, Dragons, so you will be going with Maior today. He will tell you the details of today's task."

One by one, the Dragons quickly flew off. Itha was last. _Will you be all right?_ she asked Ismira, careful to keep her attention to the sky, trying to keep this anxious exchange a secret from the others.

 _Yes,_ Ismira tried to reassure her, even though she was sure Itha could sense her nervousness through their bond and could hear her racing heart.

Itha sent her a wave of calming thought, before minimizing their connection so that each could focus on their task.

"I thought the Tunnel was too long to walk." Lotte commented in a thick accent. The Dwarf had joined them on Dragonmount just last year and she was still a bit unfamiliar with their home. "I thought Riders always flew to Eaglegate. Is this not a road for guests, Shadows and pack mules?"

"Mostly, we do prefer to fly." Keya agreed. "But, today I have decided we will go through the Tunnel, as part of your lesson." She gave Lotte a motherly smile. "Orjee has informed me that you have built a satisfactory level of stamina. I believe you will have no problem keeping up with us."

Lotte raised her chin in pride. "All members of the Dûrgrimst Feldûnost are hardy folk. I can chase after Feldunost on the steepest mountain side all day long." She looked at them, daring anyone to dispute her claim. "I have. Many times." Ismira felt Emery trying to conceal a laugh by her side.

"That is good to hear." Keya gave Emery a sharp look and he composed his expression to one of attentiveness, their wordless exchange a mark of their close collaboration. It was well known that Emery was one of Keya's favourite students and she had not truly scolded him for years. The same could be told for Ismira, until recently.

"You see" Keya told Lotte "we will be running all the way to Eaglegate." It was tradition for new Riders to be made to run through the Tunnel the first time they were allowed to visit Eaglegate after arriving on Dragonmount.

Lotte's black eyes widened and she seemed to notice her teacher's attire for the first time. Keya was wearing a knee length green dress made of light cotton. Her gray hair was in a high bun, held in place with two simple wood pins. She was also barefoot, a pair of soft shoes tied on the outside of her backpack. Lotte also checked Ismira's outfit out of the corner of her eyes. A simple beige tunic and brown leggings. Well-worn leather shoes perfect for running. Lotte looked down at her own clothes and gulped. Stiff boots and leather pants. A golden chain around her neck. Obviously she thought to dress well for an official visit to Eaglegate, not for two hours of running underground.

Keya turned towards the gate, Emery following right behind her.

Glas appeared lofty as he elegantly walked up the marble stairs before the gate. He was dressed in the Elves normal attire, his dark curls framing his angular face. Ismira had not spent much time with the new Elven Rider. He was one of those from Du Weldenvarden that wore an air of superiority and contempt. Many Elves were like that when they first came to Dragonmount, but thankfully most soon adapted and accepted their Brothers and Sisters as equal. She had grown closer with Dilya instead, an Elf female that had lived on Dragonmount for five years before being chosen almost a year ago. Dilya was much less arrogant in her dealings with Humans and she and Ismira had spent some time together. That is, before Blood Feast.

Ismira tightened the straps on her backpack and motioned to Lotte to go before her, preferring to bring the rear. Lotte gave her an apprehensive look and Ismira did her best to appear reassuring to the young Rider, insisting she went first. The Dwarf gave an audible sigh and tried to appear nonchalant as she marched up the stairs, while trying to coil her thick black braid atop her head.

As Ismira climbed towards the unassuming arched gate on the face of the mountain, she was reminded of her first time travelling through the long dark road. It had still been the early years of this particular tradition. The other Riders had made a much bigger occasion of it for her sake. They had just recently completed the Tunnel and the location of the gate had been a secret. Few Non Riders had been allowed to reside on Dragonmount, and while the idea of a road connecting them with Eaglegate had been deemed necessary by all, the Riders had kept it a secret to all but those of their order.

As more and more non Riders were allowed on Dragonmount, it became impractical to keep the Tunnel a secret. Dragons were not couriers and could not be used to constantly carry goods and people. Nor could the residents of Dragonmount that lacked a bond, scale the steep mountainside. So, they decided to leave the gates open and their location known to all as a mark of trust. They were not however, left unguarded.

A guard stood one each side of the gate. An Elf and a Dwarf, wearing outfits made of Shadeweave. The Gift of the Riders. It was a material produced solely on Dragonmount and given only to those that resided here. Silk from a particular breed of worms found only here. The Riders used both skill and magic to weave it into a special cloth. One that could keep you warm in winter and cool in summer. One that could change colors according to its environment. The one that had given the non-Riders who resided on Dragonmount their name.

The Shadows.

It was the people of Eaglegate that had started using the term, when they saw them appearing out of the Tunnel, their cloth perfectly concealing them and blending with the darkness, as if the shadows themselves gave birth to them. The people of Eaglegate were not allowed on Dragonmount, so they tended to regard them with a sense of mysticism and awe. Ismira suspected Eragon liked to enhance the feeling, as it also meant they were somewhat afraid of them and less of a threat.

As Ismira passed between the guards, they gave her warm smiles and she did her best to return them. They knew each other well. Jelan the Elf had come to Dragonmount three years ago with her partner and Iruka the Dwarf had arrived five years ago, along with three of her children. Ismira had been residing on Dragonmount longer than they had. She still remembered the day each one of them had been accepted as a Shadow. Every Rider available was expected to attend the Acceptance Ceremony for a new resident. Ismira, as a student, had always been present.

She was planning to skip every Ceremony for at least five years when she finally became a full Rider.

 _When…_

As she entered the long tunnel, leaving the guards behind, Ismira's smile fell. _Don't think about it!_ She thought. She did not want Itha to catch her thoughts. The advancement of their studies was a topic that caused too much anxiety to both of them.

"As I was saying" Keya said, stopping just a few steps inside the Tunnel, "we will run to Eaglegate. If we maintain a good pace we should be there in about two hours."

"How long is the Tunnel, Ebrithil?" Lotte asked.

"Twenty miles. We will make a stop in the middle, do not worry."

Lotte nodded, trying to hide her discomfort. Emery gave Ismira a wink and she smiled back at him. They both knew that the young Rider would be spent by the time they reached the city. Ismira had heard that when Emery made his first trip, he had been with three Elves, who had made it in an hour and a half without stop. He had been so tired, he had vomited on the eastern gate, for all the city to see.

Glas seemed undisturbed. Ismira had no doubt the Elf would have no problem with their pace. She just wished he would not try to impress them by running faster.

Keya apparently had the same thought, as she purposely went ahead of them, Emery quickly taking his place right behind her, cutting the Elf. Glas clenched his jaw, but did not try to move them aside. The Tunnel was wide enough for all of them to run side by side, but it was apparent Keya wished for them to run single file. The fact that her students understood that without her explicitly saying it was just another test. Being able to guess the intentions of their fellow Riders was a vital trait for their future cooperation.

As Keya led the way in a run, Ismira tried to focus her mind elsewhere.

But it was a difficult task…

There shouldn't had been guards on this side of the Tunnel. It was only because of Blood Feast that they were placed there…

Unrest was visible on Dragonmount. Ismira could feel it seep the walls. Her own anxiety permeated every fiber of her body, but she could feel the air buzz from the unease of her fellow Riders.

The rumors among Students were catching like wildfire. They were not allowed in the meetings inside the Haven, but still, they were not ignorant. Ismira had been avoiding most of her friends, but she had heard plenty through Itha and through whispered conversations whenever she left her rooms. Many recalled the fact that Ismira was Eragon's niece. They were trying to make conversation, wishing to hear any secret news her uncle had told her. Eragon had not confided anything to her of course. She had been very careful to avoid him and when they met it was mainly to remind her to contact her family.

Now she wondered whether Eragon had placed the guards on this side of the Tunnel as a precaution for any attackers or to prevent any of his Riders from running away. Ismira had seen the wild Dragons flying closer to Dragonmount. It was almost impossible for a pair to fly away without being noticed. She had also seen Riders equipped with their weapons, wherever they went.

She had heard the rumors that Mistress Tugdo was flying further and further each time she left for a precautionary scouting mission. Tugdo's father had been killed during Blood Feast and it was obvious she thirsted for vengeance and was testing the limits of her freedom. Eragon had not allowed her to return to Alagaesia. Ismira thought it would not be long before she left for a quick trip and did not return. Many wondered why Eragon did not forbid her from leaving Dragonmount altogether. And many whispered that Eragon was too fond of the Urgal Rider. Too biased.

At least they were still allowed to travel to Eaglegate. When Keya informed Ismira that they would be making the trip, she had been shocked. She had been certain that Master Eragon did not like her leaving Dragonmount. Perhaps the fact that she was not contacting her family had eased his fears of her trying to run away.

They run for a full hour before Keya stopped, allowing a break. Lotte had been heaving for the past ten minutes and thankfully put her back on the cool stone. Ismira took a sip of water and wiped her forehead with a cloth. There were ventilation holes throughout the Tunnel, but it was still mostly stuffy and running in here not very pleasant. She lightly tapped in the jewel she had sewn on the inside of her tunic and drew a drop of energy.

Glas was standing arrogantly, not a drop of sweat on him. Ismira wanted to throw her water flask on his chiseled face. Emery and Keya were also drinking some water. Keya seemed as at ease as the Elf. It never failed to amaze Ismira, how a woman in her forties appeared nimbler and had greater endurance than they did.

Lotte was massaging her calves. No matter the young Dwarf's claims, she would not be used to running downhill for long stretches. The Tunnel went steadily downhill, as another defensive mechanism; to tire whoever thought of invading Dragonmount

Ismira had lost a few weeks of training, but she was a Student Rider for eight years now. Her bond with Itha had changed her body and strength more than other Students' who had been bonded for less. Emery was bonded for five years, his features less elflike than Ismira, but he could still hold his own as well as she. She felt he was close to graduating. She had seen enough of her fellow students become full Riders, while she was left behind. _Think not about it…_

She felt a cool breeze caress her hair. Moving closer to the cool stone wall, she found the source. A hole for ventilation. She breathed deep, imagining the blue sky and fierce winds above her. She did not like it here. The Tunnel was well lit by flameless lanterns and was spacious enough to not feel too claustrophobic. It was even decorated with artwork in places; sculptures and murals and paintings. They did nothing to soothe Ismira's nerves. She wanted to get out, she wanted to _run_. The longer they stayed put, the tighter her chest felt. She wiped her hands on her leggings, they were damp with sweat.

Ismira saw Keya looking at her and realized she had placed her cheek against the wall. Quickly she straightened, trying to shrug it off as exhaustion. She pretended to adjust her shoes, evading Keya's understanding eyes. _Had the others noticed?_ Emery was sharing a cooling cream with Lotte for her strained muscles and Glas was examining a forest painting, placed an alcove down the road.

Ismira turned her back on them, pretending to fix her hair. The excuse gave her something to do with her hands.

They stayed there for fifteen minutes before starting again.

When they were five minutes away from the gate, Keya stopped again. She got a vial out of her backpack and gave it to Lotte to drink. "To replenish your strength." She said. The Dwarf drank without a question and stood a bit taller, the magic potion instantly having an effect. "Well done." Keya told Emery and Ismira realized the drink must have been of his creation. She felt a pang of jealousy that Keya had not entrusted the task to her.

"Times have changed." Emery mused. "You got off easily." He told Lotte, who gave him a scalding look.

"What do you mean?" the Dwarf asked.

"Well, every year Eaglegate grows bigger. More and more visitors arrive with every ship. Many come all the way here just for the excitement of meeting the Riders in their home. So we need to keep our reputation intact. They expect us to look flawless."

"And now is more important than ever that we do." Keya said. "Remember this, for today and every time you come to Eaglegate: you are representing our Order. Whatever happens in Eaglegate gets reported back to Alagaesia. Eaglegate is flooded with visitors and its residents often either travel back to Alagaesia themselves or report back to someone. Here we do not have the complete freedom of Dragonmount. Be careful what you do. You are to present yourselves with dignity and to always remember our code and ethics. Most importantly: be careful what you _say._ " She said with a stern expression. They all nodded.

Keya took a brown skirt out of her backpack and wore it over her green dress, making a more modest outfit. She untied her soft shoes and wore them as well. The others wiped their sweat and straightened their clothes, trying to be more presentable.

They walked the rest of the way in a tight formation. Keya in the front, Emery and Ismira behind her and Glas and Lotte behind them. Ismira was all too aware of her position as a senior Student beside Emery. She tried to mirror his straight back and confident demeanor. Glas was frowning, visibly annoyed by his place. Ismira wondered how old he was. She could never tell with the Elves. She was certain he was not pleased with being placed behind Human children, as he no doubt regarded them as. Not just Ismira and Emery, but Keya as well.

Soon, light was visible before them, just after a bend in the Tunnel. The muted sounds of the city and the falls reached their ears. Ismira braced herself.

The guards glanced behind them as the Riders approached, bowing their heads to them as they passed. Another pair of Shadows. Dawe, an Urgal, and Nadia, a young female descending from the Wandering Tribes. They asked no questions, made no friendly gestures this time. For anyone watching, their behavior betrayed nothing but servitude.

Not that there was much of a chance for anyone to be watching them here. Almost everyone would be busy in town.

The Tunnel's gate in Eaglegate was located inside an intricate garden, on the side eastern end of the mountain range, slightly north of the city and in a higher elevation. The location chosen carefully to ensure maximum security. It was invisible from the port and the main road, so that a new visitor would not even know of its exact location. They knew this place as the Rider's Garden; a favorite spot for a leisurely stroll and picnics. It was a well-known secret that here was the Gate to Dragonmount, but nowadays few managed to lay eyes upon it. And if they wanted to find it unaided, they would have to pass through the maze of trees and foliage, strategically surrounding the gate. Not to mention countless wards renewed and enhanced regularly.

Ismira took a deep breath of the fresh air. The sky was bright blue, a few fluffy clouds dotting its face.

Keya's mind slightly touched Ismira's. _Step only were I step, young Riders._ She said, speaking to all of them. _The wards have been enhanced lately. Memorize my path. We do not want to set them off._

They followed her closely, keeping their minds open, focusing on Keya's instructions and explanation of each new enchantment. Ismira's skin prickled as she brushed by each ward. She kept her palms open, her gedway ignasia the key to passing safely. She did not remember this many wards last time she was here. She felt like they had tripled since Blood Feast.

Soon they emerged in a clearing with tree houses in the Elfish style. The Elven Quarter.

The Riders had placed the entrance to the tunnel behind the Elven Quarter as another protective measure. Eragon had deemed Elves to be the most trustworthy of the races and less likely to trespass. That did not sit well with Ismira. Initially, the Tunnel ended in the middle of the town. As Eaglegate became more populous, the old structure was caved in and a new branch was formed. Apparently, Arya had reassured the Riders of her race's trustworthiness, and had insisted this to be the best idea. Ismira felt Eragon should have been more impartial with such an important decision.

They met with few Elves, who made the sign of respect to them. Ismira was not surprised there were not more around. It was the start of the day and most would be out in town. Most Elves came here for business anyways. If they wished to visit Dragonmount, they would already have been given permission by Arya and would be immediately accepted. Another privilege many thought to be unjust. Arya was a Rider and a Queen, but not Queen of the Riders. Important decisions, such as who would be invited in the Riders' home, were best left to the Riders' Council.

Keya acknowledged the Elves politely enough, but did not stop to chat. She purposely headed deeper into town.

Soon, soft grass gave way to cobbled streets and tree houses to stone mansions. They encountered more people as they went deeper into the town. They stared at their formation and understanding blossomed in their eyes. They bowed respectively and murmurs of Argetlam and Shurtugal followed them. Many gave fleeting glances towards the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of their Dragons.

Ismira kept her focus forward, uncomfortable with the attention.

Keya for her part did not lose her stride, her posture straight and proud as a maiden's. She led them through main roads and narrow alleys alike. People seeing her first and made way. Wherever they were on Dragonmount, it was easy to mistake her as a simple motherly figure. Strong and resilient certainly, but plain and unthreatening. She seldom left, but when she did visit Eaglegate, the transformation was truly marvelous. She appeared _powerful._ The dagger on her hip not a tool for cutting herbs, but an instrument for Death. She was kind and generous to her students and her patients, but could be cold and intimidating to strangers.

The sloshing of water was soon loud in their ears and Ismira sensed a large crowd of people ahead of them.

The Harbor.

Emerging from an alley so narrow they were forced to walk sideways, they found themselves on a large plaza overlooking the ships. The thunder of the Falls mixing in with the groans of wood and shouts of sailors and merchants and customers was almost deafening. The sun was suddenly blinding, reflecting on the white stone.

Ismira did a quick scan of the ships to their right, her heart flattering as she spotted sapphire sails. She did not have time to see more as Keya sharply turned left, towards the Hall of the Cross; the Healing Chambers of Eaglegate. An imposing structure, three stores high, built out of interlocking buildings in the shape of a cross that had given it its name. Eragon had named it something else at first, in the Ancient Language, but it had not stuck, so it was replaced.

Whenever Ismira saw it, it took her breath away. It had a façade of brilliant white marble and a roof of colorful mosaic depicting Dragons in flight. It was built to be quickly accessible from the Harbor and the golden rod on its roof was visible for miles away as ships sailed in.

Many visitors came all the way from Alagaesia solely for the Rider's healing aid. The Cross was a major contributor to Eaglegate's fame. And fortune.

Keya quickly led them pass the groups of people on the front. They loosened their formation and half run inside. If they were spotted, they would certainly be assaulted by patients or anxious family members. Instead they hurried through a side gate, touching their gedway ignasia to the column on the left side of the grey arch to be allowed in.

They walked down a long corridor with high ceilings, the only light coming from openings on the walls high above them. The walls were made of crème stone and the floors of black and white tiles. Their footsteps lightly echoed along the hall. They passed numerous closed doors, not another person in sight. Here were personal rooms for the healers to rest and think. Ismira had spent many days here, helping Keya and the Healers in the past three years. Wards and enchantments kept the rooms protected from the sounds of the plaza and the healing rooms.

As they took a turn, they heard numerous footsteps and soft murmurs. They had reached one of the main corridors, were patients were allowed. They passed and Urgal Healer, wearing the Healer's malachite green gown, pushing a rolling chair with an old man slumped on it, only half conscious.

Another Healer, a female Human, was standing in front of a room with its doors wide open. She was examining her notes with a frown.

"Catherine." Keya greeted her.

"Keya Argetlam." Catherine did not look up at them as they approached her. She was a middle aged woman with greying blond hair, wearing a white belt over her green gown, marking her as a Head Healer. She had a reputation for stern looks and hard discipline. Ismira thought of her projected behavior as the opposite of Keya, but she believed there were both made of the same hard stone. Ismira always wondered as to why she had not yet been made a Rider.

"Look at this." Catherine extended her notes to Keya. The two women stood with their heads close together, silently communicating. It was the rule here, that Healers mainly communicated mentally with each other. That way, they protected their patients' privacy by not discussing their ailments in the open, and they maintained peace and quiet. Catherine especially was a bit too harsh if she heard a novice raise their voice above a level she seemed appropriate for her patients' sensitive ears.

The Students stood waiting for the two women to finish. Healers and patients passed by them, many of the former nodding to Ismira and Emery.

"What are those red lights?" Lotte asked. "Above each door."

"They are an alarm." Emery answered. "If they are lit, it means a patient needs help."

"The Healers… Are all of them magicians?" Lotte was staring at a couple of Healers quickly passing by, holding a Dwarf whose face was white as paper, a hand clutching his chest.

"Most, but not all." Emery replied again as they all moved quickly aside to let them pass. "Not every ailment needs magic, nor can magic fix everything."

"Very well said." Keya gave Emery a proud smile.

Catherine followed the Healers with the Dwarf, without another look at the Riders.

 _Follow me,_ Keya told them. _The case we have come to see today is in another ward._

 _Is this why we are here, Mistress?_ Lotte asked as they walked. _To heal someone? Is it a difficult case?_ Ismira could feel the Dwarf's excitement. It was apparent she was longing for an opportunity to flex her magical abilities.

 _We are here primarily to observe,_ Keya corrected her. _It is a unique case I want you to see. It has gone well; I hope they require no healing from us today._

 _They?_ Lotte insisted, her bright eyes sparkling with curiosity. Even Glas appeared interested.

Keya stopped in front of closed double doors and gave a light knock. She regarded her students with a mischievous smile. _You will see…_ Her eyes landed on Ismira.

Ismira's chest tightened. She sensed a challenge in her teacher's eyes. A test. She tried to brace herself, but she had not the time to calm her racing heart before the door opened and she felt her knees weaken.

A muscular Man stood there, occupying the whole opening. His blond hair almost white in the light spilling from the room into the corridor.

Albriech, son of Horst. Her Father's Master Smith. 


	29. Chapter 26- Ismira

Chapter 26 – Ismira

 _Albriech!_

Her Father's smith. Here on Eaglegate. One of Roran's most loyal subjects. _What is he doing here? Did Father send him? Is he alone?_

 _Did he come for me?_

She wished the marble floor would crack in half and swallow her, leaving no trace behind. Her muscles locked and trembled. She could try to hide, but where? The marble corridor was long and bare, all other doors closed. She could use magic. She knew the spell to make herself invisible. As she brushed the energy filled tourmaline hidden in her tunic, it pulsed brightly in her mind, promising a quick escape.

"Ismira!" She almost jumped out of her skin. Albriech was giving her a huge grin. Keya on the other hand, was frowning at her. The other students turned towards Ismira, making her the center of attention. She wished she would melt into shadow and air and clenched her hands in fists to stop them from trembling.

She gave a reserved smile, trying to hide the storm of panic threatening to drown her. "Lord Albriech!" Why was her voice so high? Did the others notice?

"Ha ha! Little Ismira! Look at you! How big you've grown!" Before she could react, Albriech enveloped her in a bear hug. He smelled of metal and leather; a familiar smell from her childhood. He gave her a tight squeeze and pulled back to look at her. He noticed the red pendant she had chosen to wear over her beige tunic. Katrina's jewel. His eyes shone at the sight, his smile deepening. "Beautiful like your Mother, fierce like your Father." He paused for a moment and his grin muted, his eyes catching her ears, the changes in her face and body that come with the Bond. It had been five years since the last time he saw her. "And like your Uncle…" he whispered, but did not finish the comparison.

She could almost see the path of his thoughts as he remembered. _A Rider. A stranger. A freak._ It sent a stab through her heart. She had not thought about it for a very long time and tried to shake herself from the sudden onslaught of dark memories.

 _Focus!_

 _What brought him in Eaglegate? And why is he in the Cross?_

She studied Albriech. There were dark circles under his blood shot eyes. His straight blond hair was left uncut, reaching his chin, with more grey hair than Ismira remembered. His beard was also longer, and starting to go silver. Despite nearing his fourth decade, he was still strong and fit from years working in the forge, as the bulge of his muscles portrayed. But there was a wildness in his eyes, a stoop in his shoulders.

There was no visible sign of ailment that explained his visit. Either he was healed already or he had come with another patient. _Keya spoke of "them",_ she recalled. Her stomach knotted even more. _Someone from home. It must be. Who?_ She looked at Keya for answers, but her teacher did not meet her gaze.

Albriech blinked and looked around at the other Riders as well, giving a respectful nod. "Welcome! Welcome!" he nervously said. "Have you come to see them?" he asked of Keya.

"We have come to check the status of the mother and the baby." She responded with a reassuring smile.

 _A Baby?! It cannot be… No. Maybe his?_ Ismira had not heard of him getting married. And why would he come all the way here with a baby? Even if they rode a Dragon, the journey was too perilous, especially since Blood Feast.

"I hope you have not come at an inconvenient moment?" Keya continued. As if anyone could stop her from seeing a patient. As if she could not break the doors and the walls in this building as easily as she could break someone's mind and body. But this was also part of their lesson. To always show courtesy to your patients. Sometimes it was better to make them think they were in control. Especially if they were weary of magic. Better for them not to be reminded of the Rider's prowess. Better for them not fear them. Which was partly why Dragons were seldom, if ever, allowed in here.

"No, no. Come in, come in." Albriech opened the doors for them and ushered them in.

The room was wide, with a high ceiling and plenty of light. It was connected with an inside courtyard with a small fountain and flower garlands knitted expertly together and hung to provide natural cover from the sun. The room was decorated with soft colors and the general design was meant to promote serenity and to ease the patient's recovery. The smell of lavender and cedarwood was prevalent but not overwhelming.

On a generous bed lay an Urgal female under soft bed sheets covering her up to her waist, leaving the rest of her bare. Her skin was a deep grey, an unusual coloration for her people. Seeing them enter, she clutched the bundle she was holding tighter against her breast. Ismira could hear the baby suckling even though she could not see it clearly, covered up as it was. Her training came back to her. _A good sign, that the baby is feeding._

And the realization that she was a stranger, that no other familiar face from her home was here almost made her faint in relief.

Albriech quickly went by the female's side and rested a hand on her shoulder. Keya went to the other side and the rest of the Riders clustered around the bed. Ismira found herself next to Albriech. The Urgal glanced at him, and he gave her a nod and a reassuring squeeze. On close inspection, Ismira noted that her face was still strained and pale from the exertion of childbirth, but her yellow eyes watched them carefully. Measuring them up, glancing at the room's exits.

Ismira was not insulted by the Urgal's weariness. It was evident she had plenty of reasons to be as her body bore marks of heavy fighting. Both of her horns were broken, to what must have been a third of their original size. Their still jagged edges betraying it as a recent loss. Her left shoulder bore an ugly scar from a piercing weapon. It must have been either great luck or great effort that had prevented it from stabbing her heart. Her right hand was scarred from burning, the worst of the wound removed by a healer, although she had evidently chosen to not remove the whole of the evidence of her wound. There were also various scars and scrapes on her neck and hands, acquired through the years. And no doubt she had more on the part of her that was covered.

 _She must have been a warrior_. Ismira wondered whether she had fought in the War. Most of her scars were a sign of great brutality that made Ismira's blood cold. She knew enough of Urgal's culture and fighting style to recognize that most of the wounds were likely done by her own people.

"Lagakh" Keya greeted her. "How are you feeling?" she asked her in the Human language.

Lagakh replied politely in an unusually clear and musical voice for her race. "We are both well, Dragon Rider. Thank you, for your hospitality and the care you have given us." Her eyes darted towards Albriech, almost uncertain. He smiled at her and Ismira wondered whether they were speaking the Human language for his sake.

As Keya asked Lagakh a few more precise questions about the birth and her condition, Ismira's focus lapsed. She had attended many births, and understood most of what Keya was asking. She desperately tried to avoid thinking about the last birth in which she was present. The smell of Hilda's blood was heavy in her mind and she was thankful for the lavender and cedarwood perfume the Healers had diffused in the room. _Keya should have warned me!_

The rest of the students were listening tentatively, but Ismira had a feeling Keya's lesson rested elsewhere. For the first time, she truly focused her attention on Albriech. On the hand he had placed on the Urgal's shoulder. The caring way he touched her. The fact that she seemed to lean into the touch and occasionally looked at him as she spoke. The proud smile he wore every time the baby was mentioned. A son.

Which Ismira was certain was his. Theirs was a very familiar relationship, not simple acquaintances. Initially she had thought he had simply accompanied the Urgal here, perhaps on Roran's orders. Now she wondered whether her Father had approved of the journey at all.

A half breed child, no matter how intriguing and fascinating a Rider would find it, was not likely to be approved of in Alagaesia. Eighteen years of peace were not enough to wash away old traditions and superstitions. No wonder they had fled to Dragonmount, seeking the protection of Eragon.

As Legakh spoke with Keya, the baby finished eating and she lovingly raised him and started patting his back, keeping a protective hand on the back of his head. Keeping him hidden from them. Ismira wondered at the child's appearance. Lagakh's movements were too smooth and clever and Ismira had not been able to get a good look at the child's face.

Ismira felt Keya's mind lightly touch hers. Her teacher was in a middle of asking about the baby's weight upon birth and was not looking her way, but Ismira felt as if she was prompting her to speak. They had come here for a lesson after all.

"…the Healers said it is normal, all things considered." Lagakh was saying and Ismira recognized her opening.

"The child…" Ismira addressed Lagakh for the first time. Keya turned to her with a small smile, the other students looking at her, while Albriech tensed at her side, eyes suddenly lowered. "Is it half Human?" she asked.

Lagakh hugged the baby even tighter, slightly lowering her head, a sign Ismira recognized as a warning before attacking. A mother's instinct, to lower her head and show her horns at a potential foe. Although, broken as they were, they would do little damage. Ismira held the Urgal's stare, trying to keep her face free of judgment. "Yes."

Lotte sucked in a breath in shock and a fleeting look of disgust passed on Glas' face. Ismira expected Lotte to be the most shocked, as Dwarves tended to be the most traditionalists, but was surprised by Glas' reaction. She was even more surprised by the fact that Emery betrayed no emotion. _Keya must have filled him in. Perhaps he was present at the birth as well._ It was not so long ago that Keya would had confided in her about this. Especially since Albriech was one of her Father's vassals. Not to mention the fact that the birth of a half Urgal half Human baby would pose a few challenges and would have been a great training to her as a Rider. Yet, Keya had chosen Emery to know and not her. She felt a flash of jealousy at that.

How was it possible that she had not heard about this? Albriech having an affair with an Urgal and having a half breed child with her? Were they even married? None of them wore a ring. This was a prime scandal for the Valley.

Then she remembered that she had forsaken her vow to her Father and had not spoken with her family and friends back home for many weeks. Shame and jealousy mixed and turned to anger.

Some of it must have shown in her face, for Keya and Emery furrowed their brow, mistaking her reaction for judgment against the child. Albriech sent Ismira a fleeting look and lowered his head, almost in shame. A few moments of silence hang between them before Keya spoke once more. "May we see the child?"

Lagakh hesitated. "Yes, Rider." She carefully removed the child from her breast and turned him towards them, always keeping him close.

It was more than obvious why they had run. The child, even as a newborn, was a mix of both races and Ismira was certain even as he grew, he would never be able to pass as one race or the other. He had the Urgal's greyish skin tone and features. There was no sign of horns, but those normally came later in life for Urgals. A fuzz of blond hair grew just above his brow and his eyes were a clear, shocking baby blue.

"The Healers said, his eyes might change color. That some… Human babies do… change eye color?" Legakh anxiously asked. Ismira understood her worry over the child's eyes. His hair he could shave, but his eyes would not be easy to change, besides using magic and even that, would have to wait until he was fully grown. There was no way of knowing if the child would even grow horns. And a hornless child would never be accepted amongst the Urgals. Whatever happened, the child would be singled out all his life.

"Some babies do" Keya kindly responded. "Their eyes turn green or brown as they grow." It was unlikely they would turn yellow, the most common color among Urgals. "Some do not change at all."

Legakh nodded, her eyes cast down for once. The shame over wishing her child was different, evident on her face. Albriech seemed to share his partner's feelings.

There was a sharp knock on the door, breaking the tension. "Enter, Roese" said Keya.

A tall Human female with curly brown hair and the white and purple striped robe of an apprentice Carer briskly walked into the room and went by Keya's side. "Argetlam" she said, making the sign of respect. "Head Carer Warin sends me. He wants you to know that he searched our storerooms, but found no milk bramble vine."

Legakh was distressed at that. "Are you sure? You have none?" she asked Roese, as she cradled the baby once more, rocking him to sleep.

The young girl seemed uncomfortable to be under the Urgal's scrutiny. "That is what the Head Carer said."

"Does it not grow here?" Lagakh asked Keya.

"No, this particular variety does not. I could get you some of the local type."

"My clan… It was always _milk_ bramble vine that we used." Lagakh said sadly. She desperately turned towards Albriech, who seemed lost for words.

Ismira tried to recall if her lessons had said anything about the importance of milk bramble vine in Urgal's culture. She was almost certain she had not heard of it before. Urgals had various rituals for important life events, including birth. She could not guess what Lagakh wanted to do with the plant, but if it was significant for her, she could understand why she was desperate to have it. One of the most important rituals in an Urgal's life was indeed a birth ritual, but it was mainly significant because it marked one's acceptance by the clan. And there was a suspicious absence of other Urgals. Even Keya had not brought any Urgal Riders with her.

"Is it possible someone else in Eaglegate might have some?" Albriech asked.

Keya frowned. "The variety you seek is native to the Spine. We would have to ask a member of the Urgalagra, and still chances would be slim."

"No!" Lagakh shouted, waking the baby. He started crying and she immediately started rocking him again. "Please, do not." She added in desperation.

"Head Carer Warin suggested…" Roese added hesitantly "He said we could ask Silverfinger." She whispered to Keya.

The Rider clenched her jaw. "We better not."

"Who?" Lagakh asked, her eyes bright. Roese seemed surprised that the Urgal had heard her. _Not yet fully comfortable with dealing with those of sensitive hearing,_ Ismira noted.

"A merchant." Keya answered her displeasure visible on her usually calm face. "A very expensive one. We try to not go to her often. She preys on those in need."

A smuggler. Ismira had heard of her even though she had never dealt with her personally. Details about her were sparse, but two years ago Silverfingers had provided them with Feldunost hoof powder; a request from one of their patients. In a whispered conversation, Ismira had heard of the smuggler. She suspected that dealings with her were done only for special reasons and even then it was almost as if in shame that the Rider's and healers would turn to her.

"Argetblys?" asked Lotte. _Silverfinger_ in Dwarvish.

Keya nodded and Lotter's brows shot up in surprise. Before she could say anything else, Albriech intervened. "We have gold. We can pay for her services."

Keya's expression clearly said they could not. "Gold is not always what she desires."

Ismira wondered what they usually paid her. She did not like Albriech going to her.

Lagakh's face fell once more. Albriech raised his chin. "I would seek this merchant. Where is her shop?"

Keya sighed. "You will find out whether I tell you of it or not. I cannot stop you, if you are so determined, but hear my advice. Try to settle in gold. Do not let her weave you into one of her plots. Refuse any other bargain."

Albriech's cheeks turned red. He was not one to be coddled like a child. Ismira remembered his wild temper and braced herself. "I will …" he started.

"Yes, I know." Keya said with a wave of her hand. "She is in the southern part of the city. Go to the Sleeping Ant and ask of her there." She hesitated and turned to Ismira. "You should go with him Ismira, show Lord Albriech the way." In her mind she said, _keep him from being a total fool. Eragon would expect this from us._

To be alone with one of her Father's vassals was the last thing Ismira wanted. And Keya was well aware of it. She wondered if this was some kind of punishment. For neglecting her studies for so long perhaps. Maybe Keya thought her undeserving of her lessons. "Of course, Ebrithil." She replied, bowing her head in a show respect. "We should leave at once." She briskly told Albriech and quickly turned to go, hiding the heat of hatred she felt for Keya at that moment.

She did not look back as she escaped to the corridor outside. Albriech did not immediately follow. Ismira took a few calming breaths as he said his goodbye to Lagakh and the baby and made promises of success.

 _Keya hates me._ Ismira realized. Her teacher knew of her discomfort and yet she did not respect her. _She should have told me Albriech was here._ She had been thrown into the situation head first and now Keya was making it worse. _She wants me to do the dirty work. She wants me to fail so that she appears good in Eragon's eyes._ She wondered whether Keya was one of the Riders Eragon fucked in his secret chambers. She should have paid attention to the gossip instead of avoiding it in respect for her uncle. _Maybe they planned this together. I wonder what he and Father talk about. Maybe they hate me to. Maybe they all do._

Hearing Albriech's heavy footsteps, she hastily wiped the angry tears from her eyes. She took another deep breath and tried to school her features, before Albriech could see, thankful that the corridor was empty.

"OK" he said with a grin as he closed the door behind him. "Let us go find this Silverfinger Lady."

They emerged to a bright noon sun and the cacophony of a myriad languages and dialects. Ismira came to a sudden stop on top of the white front stairs of the Cross. She took a deep breath of fresh air, as Albriech caught up to her. She felt a deep satisfaction at his heavy breathing from their quick walk through the maize like corridors. He might be bigger than her, but she had years of training to her advantage _. If I cannot not walk faster than an aging Human, who loves his cup more than his whole house, I might as well abandon any hope of becoming a Rider and go live with the Assardi._

Instinctively, she checked the sky for any sign of Itha. A few clouds here and there, but no Dragons. Hers or other. She checked her wards once more. They held strong enough than she could not even feel Itha. She had no way of knowing how close her Dragon was nor Itha's feelings. She knew Eragon would scold her for it, and Keya would try no doubt question her later on Itha's lessons, but the pair had perfected the act of exchanging information lightning fast as soon as they met again. That way, Ismira was not vulnerable to attacks and Itha was not bothered by her Riders constant anxiety.

"Busy day today?" Albriech asked.

"It's busy here every day." she replied. It was true, the Cross being the main attraction for many visitors and cleverly placed in the centre of the city, its front plaza was teeming with people every single day.

People had gathered in the front lawn, strolling, chatting and taking in the sun. They were lounging on the lawn and against the railing at the end of the plaza, overlooking the Harbor. A few stalls had opened on the left side of the plaza, under the shade of the Wings.

Ismira cursed herself for not exiting through a side door. They would have to go through the crowd now.

Hastily, she descended the stairs, taking a pair of leather gloves out of her pockets as she walked, to hide her Mark. She also shoved her mother's pendant under her tunic. She had worn it so that anyone who might report to her father, might also say they saw her wearing it. Maybe it would have pleased her family to hear that she still honored them, even though she had broken her promise to contact them regularly. Now that Albriech was here, he would report much more to Roran. If he ever went back. And to wear it meant someone might immediately recognize her and her goal was to remain anonymous.

Albriech noted her actions and raised the hood of his cloak, hiding his face. _Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't want to be recognized._ Ismira had not brought a cloak of her own, but she quickly muttered a spell. It would muddle her features, preventing anyone from peering too close or too long. It would not work in close quarters or against any of her fellow Riders nor would Albriech notice any difference.

It's harmless, she told herself, even though she knew Keya would be furious. They were meant to walk the streets of Eaglegate with their heads held high, making all know that this was _their_ home. The Home of the Riders. All others were trespassers. Guests. Allowed to be here, by the Rider's generosity. Ismira had heard the Riders say it a hundred times and each time, she felt the wrongness in the statement. The Assardi were here before them. The birds and the beasts of the land, before them. Was it not their home as well? Were the Riders not trespassing on their home? They trained for years, sharing the minds of all organisms around and still, sometimes, the Riders thought themselves rulers of the world. Above all others.

Besides, it _was_ a smuggler Keya had sent Ismira to meet. That was as good an excuse as any to hide herself.

Before anyone could actually recognize her as a Rider, she turned left and led Albriech quickly across the plaza. Mercifully, no one seemed to pay attention to them. In front of them lay a broad sloping road, leading from the Cross to Eaglegate's Main Road and Harbor.

"Are these… Saphira's wings?" Albriech asked her, staring at the sculpture to their left, which stood marking the end of the plaza.

"Yes" Ismira muttered. "They were modelled after hers." One of the first works of art installed in the city, the row of sculptures, each depicting a pair of Dragon wings, was a popular attraction. They provided shade and many merchants had opened their stalls under them. The details on each was exquisite, their color vibrant, sparkling in the sunlight. To those unaccustomed to Dragons, they would appear lifelike even

"Are they all based on a specific Dragon?" Albriech kept staring at the colored stone in awe.

"Yes." Ismira answered, glaring at the sculptures. Firnen's green was next to Saphira's and Thorn's were third. "All based on the wings of a bonded Dragon." She hesitated. "When we become full Riders, after completing our studies, we make the sculpture and gift it to the city." There was no need to mention that Itha's wings were not among the sculptures. Still. After all these years.

They had come to a stop in front of Saphira's Wings. A young black haired boy, holding his father's hand, was staring at them. A pair of Urgals was standing in front of Thorn's Wings. Ismira show Albriech tense and pull his hood tighter, at their sight. "We should go" he murmured.

Ismira did not need to be told twice. The little boy was tugging at his father. She led Albriech forward, thankful for the crowd in front of them and the opportunity to get lost among them.

More and more people were disembarking from one of the biggest ships to sail here, part of the regular transport between Alagaesia and Dragonmount. Traffic to Eaglegate slowed during winter. This was one of the last ships to sail before wintertime and it had apparently been full.

Humans, Dwarves, Urgals and a couple of Elves were packed in their way towards the southern part of the city, were the Shopping District lay. It was there most inns and shops were located and where visitors gravitated towards upon arrival.

Some were obviously first time visitors, stopping to gawk, trying to orient themselves, creating a bottleneck that frustrated regular citizens and return visitors alike. More than one argument broke out. A large man, wearing full armour, was trying to ride his Horse. The poor thing was shaking in fear, refusing to walk forward, and the man was getting more and more frustrated. As were those behind him. A family of Dwarves was trying to walk past them, a child even passing underneath the horse's belly, her mother shouting angrily at her. The man, obviously mistaking her shouting to be directed at him, puffed up and readied himself for a fight, his face getting red and fingering the sword at his side.

Rhezin was suddenly there. At the sight of the Kull, all color faded from the man's face.

Ismira quickly took a right, towards a side alley, among the warehouses dotting the Harbor, before she was spotted. She had also spotted Kirgik in the crowd doing patrol duty. Even though it was way below their station to patrol the streets and maintain peace in the crowds, Eragon was very fond of the practice. It was an exercise meant to teach Riders the complications of the world outside Dragonmount. Ismira had not failed to notice that she had not been called for patrol duty as often as the other Riders her age had been. Eragon preferred her busy in the Cross instead.

They took a longer path towards the Shopping District, preferring the alleys and side streets to the main road. She hoped no one had recognized Albriech. She wondered whether his mating with an Urgal was a well-known scandal back home. And whether anyone had followed them or worse, issued a blood feud.

 _Is that what Keya hopes? For me to be attacked?_

 _Better not risk it._

They met few people, but Ismira payed them no attention. She walked with a Rider's stride, not particularly caring whether Albriech was able to keep up. So far he had not complained, but rather seemed to prefer their quick pace. He was tense and wary and spoke little. Ismira was fine with that too. The sooner they were done the better.

She made a sudden stop in a crossroad and quickly scanned the plate hanging there. On it were directions for places of interest in Eaglegate. Even though she had practically grown up on Dragonmount, she was not one to frequent the pubs and inns of Eaglegate. She had never even heard of the Sleeping Ant Inn.

"Are we close?" Albriech whispered to her.

"Yes" she answered, reading the directions. "It is on the main road, just two blocks to the southeast." Already she could hear the clamor. She sighed in frustration wishing she had a hood of herself to hide her face.

 _Nothing to be done now._ Bracing herself, she led Albriech to the main road. They had emerged between a cheese shop and a butcher. She almost gagged at the smell. She had not eaten any animal product for the last six months, the thought unbearable to her after all those years of meditation and training.

She scanned the opposite buildings. In front of them stood a simple wooden two story Inn, the sign above its door depicting a red Ant. Whoever had painted it must not have been very good, as Ismira could not tell whether it was supposed to asleep or dead. Hoping they had reached the right place, she quickly walked across the road, avoiding a cart filled with beer barrels. Albriech gave them a longing glance.

The inside of the inn was dark and the air heavy with smoke. Most tables were occupied. With a quick glance around, Ismira spotted three tables occupied by Urgals on the back of the room. Hoping they did not stick out like a fly in a glass of milk, she went to talk with the barman.

"You must get a table if you wish to be serviced. A waiter will come by and get your order." The barman told Ismira before she could utter a single word. He was a dark skinned Human, with gold earrings on both ears and a piercing made of silver on his nose.

"We…"

"Those are the rules of this establishment." He was not even looking at her as he spoke, just focused on meticulously cleaning tall crystal glasses. "If you do not like it, go elsewhere."

Ismira's anger rose rapidly. She thought of showing him her gedway ignasia. Or burning his precious wooden tables. Or burning through his mind and making him beg forgiveness for the insult.

Albriech placed a hand in her shoulder and stirred her towards a table right next to the bar. She went with him and heavily sat down. They did not have to wait long before a lanky Human boy, wearing a red apron came by to take their orders.

"We have not come here to eat and drink." She told him, conscious of how haughty and superior she appeared.

"We do not provide tables for lounging around. If you do not want to eat or drink, you may leave." He said with authority that did not match his stature. He must have been no more that thirteen. Ismira wanted to smack some sense to him.

"We have come to do business with Silverfingers." She tried to lace her words with authority even though part of her hoped he would throw them out and she could go back to her rooms, were she could be at peace on her own. She thought all eyes were on her and resisted the urge to hide under the table.

"I do not know that name" the boy said. "We do have Spotted Fingers if you wish. How would you like them? Raw? Grilled?"

"We do not wish to eat mushrooms!" Ismira angrily replied. No to mention that Spotted Finger Mushrooms were hallucinogenic. What kind of inn was this anyway? She studied the boy closer. She was pretty sure he had lied about Silverfingers, his answer echoing a bit too practiced to her. "I wish to speak with your boss, boy."

"Master Lan does not like trouble makers. I'll take your order, or you may leave." He told them almost cheerfully.

 _He is mocking us. I have no time for this shit._

"I''ll have a beer." Albriech interrupted her angry reply. "Do you have any from Tierm?"

"Yes, we do Sir!"

"Bring me a pint. And one for my companion."

The waiter left without a look at Ismira. He went to the bar and got a jar and two mugs the barman handed to him. The barman must have heard Albriech's order. She waited for the boy to hand the jar to Albriech and then leave, before turning to Albriech. "What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Enjoying a cold beer." He replied, filling both mugs and taking a huge gulp. "You have your Father's temper, Mira. He would be very proud of you." The childish nickname made her cheeks flush. She was a child no longer; he should show her more respect.

"We are here on urgent business." She whispered back to him, as he pushed one mug over to her, prompting her to drink. "We are not here to get drunk."

"No one's getting drunk. We are simply waiting. They heard our request. They'll come back to us." He eyed her above the lip of his mug. "Eragon should let you leave Dragonmount more often."

"What do you mean?"

"I suspect they tell Silverfingers we want to meet her and she comes to us. That's the way it's usually done; when it's secret dealings you want to have. Go on, have a drink with me to celebrate my boy's birth. I doubt they'll have us wait too long." He lounged back in his chair, content with his alcohol.

Ismira did not answer him. It was true she was inexperienced, but they were pressed for time. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped with Albriech. When he finished his drink he would start talking and she was absolutely not prepared for his questions. She crossed her arms and sat back, hoping to halt any conversation.

As they waited, she studied the rest of the customers. Albriech had not removed his hood and had his back to the Urgals in the back. An unnecessary precaution most likely as they seemed to be on their way to dump drunkenness. Each one had what looked like a pot full in front of them. Another waiter, a middle aged woman, constantly refilled them. One of the Urgals had fallen asleep on the table, snoring and drooling.

There were plenty of Humans and a few Dwarves enjoying a meal and a drink. The inn looked not different than any other in Eaglegate. Clean and well kept, as all were required to be. With good quality and service. If Keya had not told her, Ismira would never have come here looking for a smuggler.

The young waiter was taking orders and seeing to customers. It did not look like he would take them to Silverfingers any time soon. Albriech was getting close to finishing his drink and Ismira was desperate to avoid any conversation. So she relaxed the wards around her mind and gently send her thoughts around her, like a blanket. A gentle touch that few non Riders could sense.

A Dwarf and a Human were having a tense conversation about some kind of deal. About Barley. She moved on. A pair of lovers were huddled in a corner, a man whispering sweet talk to a woman's ear. Ismira's skin flushed, mirroring the woman's reaction. _Do not get distracted now._ A Dwarf was boasting to his companions about his skill with the bow. No one in the room was thinking of Silverfingers. She could sense no magic users.

There was a door on the far side of the room, waiters were coming and going through there. _The kitchens._ Stairs next to it led to the second floor. She wondered if Silverfingers was up there, but she did not want to risk being discovered. She had kept herself aware, as was instructed, but was afraid to probe with her mind too openly.

"So, have you spoken with your family recently?" Albriech suddenly asked and Ismira realized he had been studying her.

For a moment she froze. This was what she had been afraid of. To be alone with him. For him to start asking questions. _Lie to him. I cannot, he will know._ "No." she answered briskly, hoping to end the conversation. She hastily grubbed the jar in front of her and took a big gulp of the beer.

"You have not asked of them yet" he insisted.

 _I do not care. Please stop._ "It is best not to speak of such things here in the open". _I am a Rider; I will not be afraid._ Yet, she could not bring herself to look at him. The charging on his face. She had her face turned away, looking anywhere but him. She took another drink, the mug half empty already.

"So, Eragon keeps you informed?"

 _Stop it._ She could not bring herself to answer that. She had been very meticulous on trying to avoid Eragon these past weeks. Albriech was simply coaxing her. If something serious had happened, Eragon would have told her. Most likely…

"Hope sends her greetings. Wanted me to tell you that she misses you. Would love to talk, when you have the time."

She closed her eyes. "I will. When I can." _I cannot. I cannot._ She finished her drink.

"Roran wants you to know…"

" _Not here"_ she hissed at him, realizing too late that she had said it with her mind as well as her voice. In her anger, she had launched her mind at his, breaking his shield as if made from paper. She was holding him still, preventing him from speaking. Albriech clutched his head, pain etched on his face from her mental stab, shock flooding his eyes.

 _Oh no._

The Dwarves from the nearby table had stopped talking and were visibly staring. Soon, the whole town would hear of this.

Albriech was fidgeting, trying to break free. He made an attempt for a mental attack that she easily blocked. _He has training?_ She relaxed her hold on his limbs. His hand went to a dagger hidden in his tunic. Ismira sensed his panic. He had never before been attacked this way. Only when he trained with a magician on Roran's orders, so he would be able to protect the secrets entrusted to him. He had not expected her to be so strong. _He fears me. He fears for his family._ He was going to start shouting at her. He was going to make a scene.

She quickly cut him off, taking control of him once more. She tried to be gentle about it, to not pry too deep into his mind; his memories. She made him put his dagger, back into his pocket, trying to make it appear natural, a movement of his own free will. She tried to make him understand that she had not meant to attack him. It had been an accident; a precaution.

When the dagger was out of view, however, she saw his lips were turning blue. Shock flooded her as she realized that in her haste she had not simply cut off his speech, but his breath as well. She quickly released him, horrified at herself.

Albriech started coughing, his hand on his chest. She could hear his heart beating wildly, a sudden rush of blood flushing his face a bright red.

She had simply meant to stop him from talking; she never meant not stop his breathing. Her heart was hammering, Eragon's advice strong in her mind. _Be careful of your power. Not everyone is as strong as you. Try not to break them._

"I'm sorry" she breathed. He was breathing heavily, looking at her darkly. _He hates me. He hates me!_

 _What have I done?_ She was going to cry. She…

"Sir? Are you all right?" the young waiter came running to their table.

"I…" Albriech took a few shuddering breaths. "I'm fine." He said, waving the boy away. "Been a while since I've had this strong a beer. Got to my head."

"Would you like some water?" before Albriech could answer the boy fetched a glass.

Albriech drunk deeply. "Thanks, but I am fine, truly."

The barman was staring at them. As the boy returned to the bar, he placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. The boy turned back and stared at Ismira. He looked scared.

She felt shame mixed with satisfaction. She had been training for years, but had next to none real world experience. She had overreacted with Albriech. That had been a mistake. But, gods, did it feel good to flex her power. She could do anything she wanted. None here could stop her. She could get hold of the barman's mind or the boy's or whoever else worked here and she could learn about Silverfingers. How to meet her or even better, where she held the damn vine. She would take it and pay her nothing. She would take it back to Lagakh and may she choke with it. That stupid little…

A shadow detached from a table on her left. She saw it out of the corner of her eye. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and was hit with the smell of musk so strongly, her head rung as if punched.

 _Blödhgarm._

He wore boots, trousers and a long sleeved tunic the same color as his fur. His mind was hidden from her. No wonder she had not noticed him.

She quickly rose from her chair and was quite pleased with herself for how smooth and steady the movement was. Internally she felt like fainting and then crying and then screaming. "Lord _Blödhgarm."_ She greeted him softly as he reached their table. Too late realizing that the gesture betrayed familiarity and probably blew any chances of her status remaining hidden. _Blödhgarm_ was a legendary figure. One well known as Eragon. No Human save one being either a Shadow or a Rider would be so familiar with him.

"Ismira" his voice washed over her, easing the tremble in her limbs. He had never spoken her name like this. With such ease. Like two friends meeting for drinks in town. His stance was still formal. Not that close friends, then. She could play along.

He sat down and she mirrored him.

"Lord Albriech". Blodhgarm greeted him formally and Albriech replied in kind. "What brings you here?" he turned to Ismira.

She tried to appear calm and in control, but her heart was still hammering and her hands were shaking. Blodhgarm had seen what she had done, he was going to report to Eragon as soon as he got back to Dragonmount. His eagle eyes were piercing her very soul; her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. "We…" she cleared her throat. "We are her one business for the Cross."

Understanding blossomed in his eyes. "I should not delay you then." He smoothly rose and turned to look at the barman, giving a slight nod.

 _He knows?! He deals with Silverfinger as well?_

Ismira felt glued at her chair, as Blodhgarm turned to her once more. She felt the softest of touches against her shield and even though she had felt the touch of his mind dozens of times, it still made her toes curl and her core heat up. She peeled the layers of her mental shield, granting him entry.

 _Be very careful._ He softly whispered in her mind. _Remember why you came here. Be swift. Promise her nothing. Take nothing else._ And he abruptly cut their connection and left.

Ismira stared after him breathlessly.

"My Lady?" the boy had materialized by her side. His dark eyes solemn. "Our Lady of Silver Fingers will see you now."


End file.
